Slave to Fate
by Hinode36
Summary: Book One. Haunted by events at Helgen and the Imperial City, Alodie simply wanted to forget the dark devouring dragons and the foolish Civil War of Skyrim. Eventually, he ends up in the crime city of Riften lead by Maven's iron hand. No matter how much he tries, he is forced head first into events that would change him forever. Main quest/Thieves Guild and others.
1. Prologue

**Slave to Fate**

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**Author's Note: I thought my first Skyrim story was a bit misinformed since I was simply in hype for the game and didn't even finish the main quest before I started writing so hopefully this goes over well :). It won't be the same story so expect some twists. And of course review, I always smile when I hear people enjoying my story! And constructive criticism is nice but don't shout at me for typos that I could otherwise find on my own. Thank you!**

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Prologue

The city of Riften was silent, a dirty breezy filtered through the orange colored leaves passing over the wooden planks of its streets. Buildings stacked on top of each other like mounds of tinder and the two moons – Masser and Secunda – drifted lazily above the massive city's night sky. Underneath Riften's walkways was the lake the town was built around and the sewers that dominated it. The Rat Ways.

A lone figure sat on a tree log bench, his face masked in the shadow from the overhanging balcony cast by the surrounding torches. A few wine-purple colored dressed guards passed him oblivious to the man's presence– obviously in a hurry. Many muttered curses to the Imperials, others remained deathly silent. The man in the dirt-brown garnished cloak sighed heavily and stood up after the guards had left carrying their orange glowing torches. He stood tall and glanced about him – making sure he wasn't being followed. He knew how much danger he was in and didn't want to gain any unwanted attention. Unbeknownst to him, a shadow leaning against a forlorn pillar in front of him and stepped into the man's path.

The Nord was heavily armed and stoic. He felt threatened by the other man's presence and could feel a strange secret eating away at the his soul. It was pained – heavy. For probably the first time in his life, Maul was disturbed.

The man, however, was silent and waited as if the bolder in front of him would suddenly tip over. He silently cursed himself when the Nord persisted. He didn't want attention and didn't need attention. He was on the run after an incident he never wanted to remember again. An incident that probably hadn't reached Riften's ears yet. _Thank the Gods for that._

Maul shifted on his feet until he realized he wasn't glaring at the man and began to stare defiantly at him. _Just make him run away . . ._

The mysterious man, however, had the pride of a million Nords and would never back down.

"Excuse me," he started. His voice was deep yet light and Maul still couldn't tell if he was an Imperial or a Breton. Didn't really matter to him either way. The man took a step forward, attempting to get past the Nord. Instead, Maul shook his shoulders revealing the heavy battle axe on his back. _Make one move . . ._

The man bristled, noticing the Nord's threat.

"I don't know you and I'm pretty damn sure the Black-Briars don't know you," Maul said. The man remained silent and the Nord bodyguard mentally flinched. He thought for a moment that he could be an assassin for the Imperials – trying to murder the Jarl perhaps. In that case he probably shouldn't stop him. Something told Maul, however, that the man before him was something else.

"Who are you?"

The man felt like knocking the Nord before him into the moat below but resisted his bloodthirsty thoughts. After nights of riding on a stolen mare to escape the images he had found in the town of Helgen, he just wanted to rest and not worry over anything trying to kill him. With a quick breath, he removed his hood so that the man before him would calm down. The stranger had pointed features – almost like an elf, Maul thought in disgust – and his medium cut hair was as black as a raven's wings. He carried himself as if he had slight importance and strength yet bags had formed underneath his eyes along with an unshaven chin. Maul backed down slightly but still glared at the man with heavy suspicion.

"What do you want?" he demanded. The man before him grimaced.

"I didn't know you needed a pass to walk around town. Do I need to pay _you_ anything as well?" he asked bitingly. Maul frowned, realizing the guards' ploy to "tax" travelers to Riften had apparently failed to fool this Imperial. He made a mental note to inform the poor undercover guards to quit the act.

Maul crossed his arms defiantly and leaned against the wooden pillar.

"No one walks around Riften without Maven Black-Briar's say so. Especially not some little punk like you," he said. The Imperial didn't even looked phased at the brash comment only tilting his head slightly.

"How am I supposed to get Black-Briar's 'say so' without walking through town to do it? I'm sorry, you aren't making much sense," he spat out before realizing what he had just done. Maul's ears grew red and his hand itched to unsheathe his axe.

"You bastard! How dare you – !"

"Lay _off_ 'em Maul. He hasn't done anyone any trouble," came a voice from the alley adjacent to them.

Two figures stepped out from beneath the lamplight and glared at the burly Nord as if he had just been pestering a little girl. The woman was a Nord with long blond locks – dark blue war-paint streaked along the right side of her face, numerous belts and hooks made up her old iron armor. The wimpy Imperial beside her shuddered at the two men and hid behind his protector, hidden within the shadows.

"I'm not sure we should be getting ourselves into this Mjoll . . ." he stuttered. The Nord named Mjoll looked at the man beside her in disbelief.

"You can't be serious, Aerin. I mean just look at that poor man. I can't just let this brute harass him like that," she reasoned quietly though both of them heard her rather clearly. Maul sniffed silently at the presence of the do-gooding Nord. This Imperial was harassing _him_, not the other way around.

The dark haired stranger remained silent and prayed to Mara that he could find a bed of some sort _soon_. He felt like collapsing from exhaustion and his hungry stomach wasn't helping the situation. He looked at the newcomers with a mixture of relief and impatience. _A soft . . . not hard . . . bed . . . that's _all_._

Both Mjoll and Maul bickered for a few minutes while the wimpy Aerin tried to hold his protector back. The Imperial's sight was phasing in and out and the streets were becoming a streaking blur. He was so fatigued that he felt as if he couldn't hold up his own weight. He had been stopped from completely falling over by a strong grip on his shoulder.

"Hey, you alright friend?" Mjoll asked. Aerin looked at the mysterious man in concern.

"Mjoll . . . he might have the rattles . . . he kinda looks . . ."

The man never heard Aerin finish as he descended into a darkening bliss.

* * *

"Jarl Ulfric, why are we heading this way?" asked a nervous Stormcloak soldier, his face masked with fear. A tall imposing Nord with long thick dark hair and brow eyed the soldier wearily. His normally regal furred robes were tangled with thorns and branches and he looked more like a hagraven then a future High King. The great Jarl Ulfric would normally look better than _this_ but escaping a dragon _and_ an execution couldn't have been avoided. He was still amazed at his amount of luck. A dragon appeared before those filthy Imperial's had their way with him. He smirked.

Most of his soldiers still looked ashen from the fight and each of them wondered how in Oblivion a dragon could show up.

Ulfric, however, knew what the coming of the dragons meant. He saw the beast with red malicious eyes and scales as black as death.

_The dragonborn is coming._

And it was most likely himself. _Maybe_.

He remembered High Hrothgar and his childhood spent there. It couldn't simply be a coincidence that the dragons came as soon as he was being condemned to death. The fates - specifically Talos - were on his side apparently. His smile only grew wider.

"We're paying a visit to old friends, soldier. _Very_ old friends." The Stormcloak didn't get what his leader was trying to suggest as they continued down the road. Only a few of them had survived and many still had injuries from days before. Ivarstead was at least a week on foot from Helgen. Ulfric, of course, would finish the journey himself.

The two days traveling had been weary on the five soldiers accompanying him. They couldn't rest fully at night without a few sentries and Imperial soldiers had already found them twice. Ulfric took care of them all easily with his Thu'um - every time he did, the soldiers cheered "For Ulfric!" and any ale the Imperials had on them was shared amongst the group to combat the cold.

On the third day, they fortunately met up with the Falkreath Stormcloak camp and Ulfric debriefed what he had seen to his lower officers.

Everyone turned pale at the news. A few minutes later in the war tent, one of his captains told Ulfric that a settlement had been taken back by the enemy while he was "gone." Ulfric cursed the Imperials again for the thousandth time that week and headed towards the commanders tent that had been set up at his arrival.

Before they rested for the third night, Ulfric heard a loud roar in the distance then shouting - horses brayed at the panic. He ran out of his tent after going over his soldier's positions on the map, smelling smoke and ash in the air. Half of the Stormcloak camp left their tents and ran blindly into the early autumn blizzard towards the roars and shouts.

_Another dragon_, Ulfric thought in panic_. Gods_.

Its frigid scales shook as fire escaped its maw onto a traveling caravan. The Khajiits and Bretons from the merchants caravan were fried instantly and a few survivors were rolling in pain from the blasted heat. The civilians were flying a burning Imperial flag and Ulfric glared at the sight, realizing it was best to let these filth die then surrender his own men to the fate of death the dragon would most certainly give them.

"Stop!" he shouted to his men. The Stormcloaks couldn't hear him over the wind. "Stop!" he yelled even louder.

Half of the camp that had rushed out stopped at his voice while a few others who hadn't heard him continued to rush towards the enormous dragon. One hundred eyes watched as the large menace glared at the newcomers. The first Nord rushed at the dragon with blinding speed, yelling curses. The dragon looked barley phased and swatted the man away with his tail. The large spiked club hit the man in the face and blood shot out from him as he flew, dead, from the battle. One Nord, enraged, lifted his axe high and screamed a battle cry only to be muted by the dragon's fangs. He was flicked through the air like a doll and landed heavily onto the now burning carriage. The fire rose higher as it was given extra tinder.

The battle went on until all of the foolish soldiers had perished into the flames. Everyone who remained stared blankly at the monster. The dragons yellow eyes met with Ulfric's. The surrounding soldiers backed up slightly by the dragon's frightening gaze and many already took off running into the forest. Ulfric made sure that he would punish those cowards in the morning.

The dragon blew out a stream of smoke from its nostrils and Ulfric felt the familiar power from the beast and breathed it in.

The dragon then spoke in a deep foreign voice that held power beneath every word.

"**_Gein kos sahlo, joor._**"

Then, it laughed, taking off towards the now destroyed town of Helgen.

Ulfric waited for the fires to die down before howling in anger.

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**Hope I got everything right. Remember to review :) !**

_Hinode~Dawn_


	2. Before the Storm

**Slave to Fate**

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"But a day, shall arise, when the dark dragon's lies, will be silenced forever and then!

Fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduin's maw, Dragonborn be the savior of men!"

_-Song of the Dragonborn-_

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**Chapter One: Before the Storm**

His name was Alodie – that much he was certain of.

Images of the past few days flitted quickly through his mind ... images of the fire ... the heat. He screamed in pain as he felt the fires flay his very skin and yet he never saw the injury. When the pain had ceased he saw him. Burning buildings surrounded the two and the people that had been screaming around them all but disappeared. The Imperial flag that flew above on the tower fell, bursting into flames. The red dragon was all but lost in the infinite waves of death.

And the black one had come to take its place.

He heard a deep rumble coming from the creature – a sad yet familiar laugh.

"**You and I are very much alike, _joor_. You know what it is like to be caged ... bounded to your masters like a wretched slave to **_**dez**_** ... to fate.**"

Alodie knew it was speaking another language yet he somehow understood the dragon's words. He took a step back from the creature and tugged on his bound hands.

"I am no monster," he whispered. "Get out of my mind."

The dark dragon laughed at him and shook its stringy wings, blasting ash into his pale face.

"**Your mind? Ha, ha, ha!**" The dark beast took the moment to laugh, sparks flying from the creatures mouth. He quieted. "**What if you were in _my_ mind, **_**joor**_**?**"

Alodie took the moment to think on the dragon's words and took another step back.

"I wouldn't want to be in a dragon's head," he reasoned, "There is no way."

The dragon laughed softly again and coiled into a ball as if he would sleep.

"**No way? You believe you can break free of your chains so** **easily**." The creature's voice grew tired.** "To run... It does not work **_**zeymah**_**. I have tried.**"

The beast's words confused him and his face contorted. The walls of Helgen seemed to cage him in like an animal the fires only adding to the bait. He wouldn't run – _couldn't_ run. The dragon was right in that matter.

He faced the monster in a bitter rage.

"Who said I was running? _I had to_! I have nowhere else to go," he yelled, his own voice unfamiliar to even himself. The dragon scoffed and closed his red eyes - finally begin to rest.

"**You cannot run away, **_**joor**_**."** The dragon flicked his tail and Alodie realized that a darkness was starting to eat away at him.**"You can only run ahead**."

* * *

"—hink he's waking up Mjoll!"

"What! Oh, the lad."

Alodie felt his head was going to split into two pieces. His eyes opened slowly to see his surroundings. He was inside a cozy house and a fireplace lazily lit the table beside him. The house was rather open and large and he noticed a few barrels of water on the floor along with a discarded potion bottle. His resting place was beside the kitchen - the cold stone floor glimmered underneath the radiant sparks from the fire. Dead wildlife hung in the racks along with seasonings like onion and salts. The warrior, Mjoll, was stirring a pot over the flames and the Imperial, Aerin, sat over him with a nervous expression. Alodie sat up quickly, his stomach lurching. Aerin hurried to move out of his way.

"Easy there, stranger. You just had the rattles and I don't think you should be walking aroun—"

Alodie ignored the soft voiced Imperial and stood checking his person for the few gold pieces and the cheap dagger he had at his side. _All there_.

Mjoll eyed the stranger with distaste and tapped the spoon on the side of the pot, licking her fingers from a spill. The boy had collapsed immediately after she talked some sense into that fool Maul. Aerin – with his normal savior like self – demanded that they should take care of him themselves instead of taking him to a healer like a normal person would. Mjoll didn't like the idea but Aerin had insisted and after the incident at Mzinchaleft, she could never say no to him.

She felt a darkness emitting from the stranger before her and didn't like it. Maybe that was why Maul went all crazy on him. He seemed to eye her with mistrust and alarm, his light brown eyes glowed an almost golden like hue in the light. She blinked once and saw the color almost disappear instantly. _Must be seeing things . . ._

Alodie glanced over the warrior before him with both curiosity and doubt. If he had truly taken ill without realizing it then maybe that dream he had last night had all been a hallucination. After all, he hadn't expected dragons to actually _talk_ and have _emotions_. It was more unnatural then the very ancient beast itself.

He walked over to the table beside Mjoll and sat, extending a hand. _Might as well break the ice._

"My name is Alodie. Some call me Alod." He tried to sound friendly but his deep voice still seemed to offend the Nord. _Did I do something wrong?_ Aerin seemed to have a plastic smile attached to his face and Mjoll remained thoughtful at the Imperial's uncanny introduction.

_He seems alright ..._ "Alod?" she questioned. The warrior nodded, grasping his hand into a firm shake. "Mjoll the Lioness. Retired adventurer." She motioned with her thumb as she stirred the pot of soup again. "That fellow over there is Aerin. He may seem a bit docile at first but he's not bad once he opens his mouth."

Aerin frowned at Mjoll's introduction and crossed his arms.

"I'm sorry, but did you just say I was _docile_?" he accused.

Mjoll laughed loudly, sipping the soup to test the amount of salt needed.

_To dry ..._"Maybe if you didn't hide behind me every time the shadows moved ..." she muttered.

Aerin's mouth flew open. "Maybe if you didn't get us into trouble every corner we turned into!" Mjoll sighed and spooned a bowl full of mutton stew and passed it to the stranger. Alod thanked her quietly.

"Then maybe you shouldn't stick around with me then," she spat. Aerin's heart immediately sank.

"T-that's not! I didn't—!"

"See – a man a few words," she said to Alod.

Aerin shook in anger. "Mjoll!"

Alodie didn't pay much attention to the bickering couple as he downed the rest of his soup and felt tempted to grab seconds. He hadn't eaten a thing for days and the squabbles of these mother hens didn't interest him. He remembered the strange dream he had the night before of a dragon talking about some philosophical nonsense. He really must be going crazy.

Mjoll passed lunch to her companion and she herself delved into the meal. She had to admit she wasn't the Gourmet, but Aerin had been tending the poor man for a few days already and hadn't left his side. Mjoll was surprised how healthy Alod seemed to appear. She knew that he must have had a heart of a Nord based off of the condition they found him in. It was amazing he was even able to get into the city gates like that. His clothes were all travel stained and worn - his cloak ruffled and ripped in places. Actually, there was something strange about his clothes – some parts looked as if they were singed over a hot fire. What could have possibly burned him out there in the middle of the Rift? A forest fire? She didn't remember anyone reporting a forest fire. The warrior grimaced at this as she stared at the man who grabbed another bowl of soup.

"So... Alod was it?" she started. "Where do you come from?"

He stopped eating for a moment, looking away from the Nord. Aerin swirled his lunch slowly.

"Cyrodiil," he stated. Alod continued eating his soup, however with a bit less enthusiasm.

Mjoll nodded. "Of course."

She had to admit, it was rather awkward starting a conversation with this Imperial. Rather frustratingly so. She gulped down the rest of her lunch then sighed. "Where in Cyrodiil are you from then?"

It was obvious that Alod didn't like these probing questions; however, Mjoll seemed to enjoy making the man squirm.

"Imperial City," he said.

"Ah ..."_Man of few words ... ha!_ "What's the Imperial City like? As big as everyone else says it is?"

Alodie stare blankly into his soup as he remembered the Imperial City – that capital filled him with terrible memories of betrayals and heartbreak. He never really liked the place anyway – too loud, too crowded. It never felt like a home to him. Sometimes, he wondered if he could have changed anything - if he hadn't been so curious, so "meddlesome" as the council member had called him.

His eyes narrowed. "Sure," he responded bitterly - most of his anger drifting to that one life changing moment. And here he was, suffering because of it.

"Um..." Mjoll felt anger radiating off the Imperial and felt uncomfortable. She was getting a bit annoyed at his short responses to her questions - almost as if he was hiding something. He obviously wasn't interested in conversation and Aerin seemed to understand that as well. He looked up and glared at the man from across the table and pointed his spoon at him.

"What is wrong with you? We saved your life and here you are acting so rude to Mjoll," he said. Mjoll sighed and rubbed her temples. Aerin _had_ to be audacious at the wrong moments, as always. Alodie seemed a bit surprised at the man's bold words then realized that he had been a bit unfriendly to the pair. So much had happened to him over the last few weeks ... that sounded like he was making excuses. He sighed, getting up from the table, scooting his chair back forcefully.

"I'm sorry for being a burden to you both. I am grateful of your hospitality," he nodded. Alodie turned and before he could open the door, Mjoll raised a hand.

"Whoa, wait. Don't leave. Aerin is like that sometimes. Don't let it get to you."

She glared a silent threat to the wimpy man and he lowered his spoon, glancing apologetically at his fellow Imperial.

"Sorry about that... I guess."

Alod looked at them both with a mixed expression. These people didn't even know him yet they were demanding for him to stay like he was some tramp left out onto the street. He was in a very unwelcoming place, especially to foreigners. The silent Imperial knew he was in Stormcloak territory because of the blue colored soldiers guarding the roads and streets to Riften - they stopped him more then once. Thinking about the Stormcloaks reminded him of _that_ Stormcloak. Jarl Ulfric. The tall long-faced Nord leader had all but vanished after the incident at Helgen and Alodie wondered what happened to the esteemed Jarl. He felt as if he would see the Nord again someday.

He sighed before the two and sat again to both of their relief. It was his fault he was imprisoned by the "Empire" and eventually sentenced to death anyway – no use blaming these two.

Mjoll coughed once at Alod's far-away look and nodded her head to herself.

"You may want a tour of our glorious city, friend - since you are new to Riften and all." Aerin nodded at his friend's words and wiped his face with a silken cloth. Alodie thought over the gesture and shrugged.

"Sure."

* * *

Mjoll glanced behind herself again to see her troop of performers parading slowly behind.

She laughed. "Hey, is it an Imperial thing to walk around so tiresomely?"

Alodie didn't show any signs of responding to the joke while Aerin smirked a challenge. Mjoll's smile remained plastered on her face at the un-humored look of Alodie and moved on past the Pawned Prawn. Alod glanced at the strange name as Aerin moved by him. What type of name was "Prawn?"

He shrugged and moved on. He had no gold to spend anyway.

Mjoll's "tour" was a simple show and tell, the Temple, the Inn, the bath houses, the Jarl's longhouse, the courtyard, an orphanage, another tavern... Alod had all but given up trying to keep track of the names. He noticed that many people seemed to avoid his group. When he voiced his concern, Mjoll sighed.

"People feel as if I meddle too much into their 'business' affairs. Maven Black-Briar rules Riften under her dominating golden laced thumb. Even the Jarl is fooled with her petty gifts and excuses. I wouldn't be surprised if she somehow bribed her way into the High King's moot," she said. Alod grimaced at this. He remembered the rude Nord from the other day mention a Maven. He swallowed slowly as he realized he could have pissed off some stuck up noble. _No trouble, I want no trouble._

Seeing Alod's anxious look, Mjoll shook her head. "Don't worry. If Maven was angry at you, you would have been thrown into the Riften city jails or stabbed by a dark brotherhood assassin's knife by now. Though she does react poorly to the most trivial of things – the woman is still practical."

Alod doubted the Nord warrior's words were true but was grateful of them anyway.

They moved past the boarding house which Mjoll exclaimed was used for more than simple "boarding." Aerin laughed beside him while Alodie wondered why that seemed so funny. He never really found the time to joke about serious subjects like that. Or maybe he simply had no sense of humor. Probably the latter. He didn't really feel like smiling after everything he'd been through over the past month anyway.

Mjoll still felt uneasily at the Imperial's presence as they walked over a wooden bridge towards market square. People crowded among stales filled with tomatoes, cheese, and radishes as well as more expensive goods like Argonian Ale and spices. Some of the people in the crowd were simple thugs while others had the look of beggars. In Riften, you were either a thief, beggar, or lucky enough to be in Maven's pockets. Both of them weren't any of them – Mjoll happened to be a retired adventurer while Aerin had his family fortune lining his wallet.

The crowd was rather bulky and loud and Mjoll felt a bit lost within the sea of mostly humans and Argonians. Feeling a loss of presence behind her, she turned to see Aerin. She looked behind him to see the mysterious Imperial gone. _Where in Oblivion did he go?_

* * *

Alodie's small form amongst the many Nords lost Mjoll and her sidekick though he really didn't feel like following anyone anyway. If he never saw the Nord again he wouldn't care. He was too distracted by the loud sounds and colorful displays. He realized again his rather lack of gold coin and sighed wishing he could have had more of an opportunity to find work as he rushed away from the scene at Helgen. He followed the road for two days and nights – his stolen horse had been worked to death because of it so he had to ditch it a quarter ways to Riften. He then walked the rest of the way along the auburn colored forested road with a few septims from the poor hunter's purse and an empty stomach. He remembered a few settlements along the way and wondered why he didn't simply stop there; after all, he wasn't in Imperial territory. He shook his head to himself at his careless mistake and continued.

As he walked, eyes fixated onto the large Jarl's palace overlooking the town, he bumped into a fragile old man's form and backed away slightly. He stared ahead of him as he saw a beggar like man with a nervous like glance – sweating like a feverous troll. The old man's dark eyes glared at the Imperial.

"Are you blind, boy? Can't you not see where you are going?" the old man accused loudly, pointing a finger at him. Alod blinked once, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm sorry old man; I can't help but space out sometimes," he apologized. It wasn't as if he had walked into the man on purpose. He noticed how hostile the people of Skyrim seemed to be and stowed that information away for future confrontations. The old man laughed before sitting down on a tree stump, grabbing a misplaced apple from a stall, chewing it softly.

"Space out? Well, don't come to me when you see the world fly past your little shoulders," he said, smirking.

Alod regarded this statement with interest before leaning against the rock hedge.

"I think I'm pretty up-to-date with current events, thank you very much," he muttered. And he was rather certain that events of late were of poor taste to this alienated province. The old man's face fell at Alod's response and his voice lowered so that not many people around them could hear.

"You probably haven't, boy."

Alodie shuddered at the man's words and found himself remembering his little carriage ride to death along the mountainous Pale Pass away from the Imperial City he once called "home." He only remembered the last part of the journey before they reached Helgen, however it still felt as if he had been marching to his grave - even now. The Imperial sulked as a dark cloud covered the sun. The old man glanced at his younger companion's serious stance and looked up into the sky. "Let me ask you something – what would you do if you knew the world was going to end?"

Alodie looked incredulously at the crazy old man. "Who said the world was going to end, old man?"

"Hypothetically, mind you." He groaned. "You young folk really need to learn not to take whatever anyone says as complete 100 percent factual truth. Ignorant, uneducated people are born that way you know." He bit into the apple again and spit some of it out. He threw the rotten core away and crossed his arms. "Well?" Alodie raised his eyebrows until the old man barked. "I don't have all day boy!"

"I wouldn't really care. If the world ends, let it end," Alod spat.

The old man seemed at a loss at the younger man's confrontation – spitting the remainder of his apple to the ground as he shrieked. "Let it end?" He flailed his fist about. "Let it end!" His voice rose and a few people in the market glared at the commotion. Alodie flinched at this, a shade of pink lighting his features.

"Quiet down will you?" he whispered harshly. Of all the things he hated, attention was one of them.

The old man didn't seem to _quite_ understand.

"You wouldn't even try, boy? You wouldn't even _try_ to do something? Anything?"

Alodie frowned at the mad old buffoon and let out a sigh. He had to find Mjoll in order to get away from this crazy old kook.

"You're talking as if the world is actually ending, old man." _Paranoid freak…_

Alodie stood up straight and brushed his cloak off to the side. He enjoyed talking to the eccentric beggar but in all honesty he had no time for fun and games. He had to find a job – any job – in order to make ends meet. He couldn't just room with Mjoll and pray that the problems before him would vanish. She might be in danger later because of him and it was probably best to separate from the two.

Apparently Riften dealt heavily in the mead industry ...

Before he could take a step forward, a hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him roughly him to the ground. He hadn't expected the old man to have such a strong arm and blushed embarassingly at his stupid careless mistake.

"What the – !"

That wouldn't have happened if he was still a part of -

"Shh! Quiet you crazy fool!" the old beggar whispered roughly.

_Look_ _who's talking._

Alodie was about to give the crazy fool his piece of mind before he glanced past the rock buffer he had been leaning on earlier. His eyes widened. Alod saw two elongated High Elves talking to Mjoll and Aerin, his newly found friends. They had black coats with golden rimmed hoods and both of their expressions were unreadable. The crowd suddenly formed a crater around where the four people stood. He cursed slowly.

"Are you serious? _The Dominion_?" he said in disbelief.

"Shush!"

Alodie suddenly felt feint. Did this have something to do with him? And whatever the elves were asking his new companions would not be pretty. _They know about that dragon_, he thought numbly_, but how would they know I was there? I wasn't even on their damn list!_

The elves wanted information on the new threat and the people who had witnessed it would obviously be pulled in for "questioning." That was why he ran away – or ahead as his new dragon "friend" would call it. He didn't want to have any involvement with the Aldmeri Dominion or this petty "squabble" of a civil war. Not to mention dragons returning to the face of Nirn out of nowhere.

Alodie sighed. _By Dibella— what have I gotten myself into?_

He wouldn't be able to answer himself as he realized the Altmer's voice rising in temper. He felt tempted then to stand up against this threat and try to deal with things civilly but a voice inside of his head told him the Thalmor were not a civil people if the Great War was any example. The old man beside him, he realized, had disappeared and he sighed mentally in relief. _At least there's one problem solved…_

He made to stand, however he felt as if Mjoll could handle this. She had her rather large battleaxe along with her iron plated armor and satchels. He wasn't worried there though Aerin would be dead weight. And the Thalmor weren't stupid enough to attack people in the middle of the street. If he remembered anything from their cult, it was that they were a stealthy, sleazy bunch.

He cursed to himself again as the Thalmor unsheathed their swords.

_Well_. Apparently not.

* * *

Mjoll and Aerin shrugged their shoulders at their missing friend and figured he just wanted time to himself. Mjoll was rather sure the Imperial wasn't stupid enough to get lost even though he was stupid enough to catch the rattles in the middle of late summer. Aerin – though he felt afraid of the mysterious man – was worried for Alod's safety in this roguish town. It was never smart to travel alone in Riften.

Before they could move towards a tavern, their preplanned destination, they were accustomed by dark robbed High Elves with sly faces. Both of them had long swords glowing with magicka and one of them had a red tattoo extending around his eyes. She would have mistaken them for barbaric witch hunters if it wasn't for their robes. She noticed some golden merish printed along the rims of the Altmer's hoods and couldn't understand the jumble of symbols. They looked rather familiar though, she realized.

Before she could mutter to Aerin to get out of there, one of them spoke.

"Excuse me? Human," he muttered condescendingly, "I am looking for a man – about in his seventies in your Nordic years." His friend glanced around the square searching for the man. They both had been sent by Elenwen after the whole dragon affair in Helgen to Riften in order to search for the old Blade and others. Apparently his dragon lore would soon become important, important enough for Elenwen to abandon all standing orders and resume a previously dead search. An old man would never be of any danger to their authority– until now.

Mjoll raised her eyebrows at the question.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to be more specific. You'll have to know that there are many old Nords that live in Riften," she countered. Aerin didn't find her word choice wise, especially in dealing with the Thalmor – obviously they were from that menacing faction. How the Stormcloak soldiers before the gate hadn't stopped them, Aerin wasn't sure.

The second Altmer's voice rose in anger to the Nord warrior's comment. "Don't talk back to us, _human_. Know your damn place."

Mjoll rolled her eyes at the two thugs. These elves were all words and no substance. If she had Grimsever, they would have been in pieces by now. She was sure no one would mind – unless Maven had anything to say against a little cleanup of "her" streets. She remembered tales of the Great War and the sacking of the Imperial City. She only heard of grim bloodied sagas from the old retired Nords in the taverns and didn't want to even think about and army of these thugs attacking Riften. She hoped she would be dead and buried before that happened.

The other Altmer beside her narrowed his eyes. "We do not need to explain ourselves to you, Nord. I need to know if you've seen this man," he repeated inhospitably. Mjoll shook her head.

"Nope. Haven't seen him."

Before the Altmer could retort, his companion drew his enchanted sword.

"I see him officer! He's runni –"

The younger High Elf was cut off as his throat was sliced from behind and began gurgling the rest in half surprise half fear. The higher ranking Thalmor unsheathed his sword and began facing his ghost-like opponent. He was short in stature and his hooded face kept his features masked from him. The crowd had stopped completely in their day to day routine and faced the fighting pair but no one – not even the guards – stopped them. They were obviously used to such a display.

Yelling out, the Thalmor ripped out a blazing fire bolt as Alod hesitated. Throwing himself onto the now slowly dying High Elf, he tugged the fool's sword from his grasp and rolled away from another blast towards his head. Mjoll tensed at the scene and made to unsheathe her axe, but Aerin began stepping back towards the awed crowd and she began worrying for his safety. She realized that she would only be getting in the way and decided that she would only spit into the face of danger if the Imperial was in need of her help. Mjoll was never considered a coward. Aerin made sure that she didn't resort to her old ways. She was not reckless, at least she wasn't anymore.

Alod stood and faced his opponent, unconsciously growling at him. Holding his bloodstained dagger in his right and stolen lightning enchanted sword in his left, he rushed at the hesitating mer as the Thalmor began readying another spell. Dazed, he blocked Alod's fierce attacks that seemed to weave in and out of possible strikes and ducks. The human had quick reflexes and the higher officer could barely keep up with the Imperial's double bladed strikes. Alodie would fake right then come out with his small knife to stab at the Altmer. The Thalmor, however, wasn't going to quit.

Lighting from his fallen companion's blade sparked upward as the Altmer parried, his own flame drenched blade frying the hair off Alod's arm. Cursing, Alodie backed up – his cloak fluttering as he felt the rock fence behind him, dark memories shifting within his mind. Seeing a weakness in the human, he shot another bolt – this time lightning – and Alodie didn't have a chance to escape. A shock rippled through his body and he fought off the urge to howl in pain. Alod fell to his knees and shivered. _No! _His mind screamed._ I can't lose this. Not now! Not after all I had just been through!_

The Thalmor realized he was sweating from the energy produced from his attack. Before he knew it, the lightning fizzled out – his magicka reserves completely depleted. Smirking, he raised his blade to deliver a final blow. No one could get up after that and he was known among his friends for being an expert at delivering agony to his opponents. This Imperial bastard was a dead man.

Alod regained composure after the pain ridden shot and eyed the High Elf defiantly with his bright golden brown eyes. Surprised, the Thalmor took a double take and loosened his grip on his sword. _How could someone even _stand_ after that? Who—?_ Alodie's knife in his right hand suddenly vanished from sight and before the Altmer could try and look for the weapon he saw that very dagger implanted into his cold heart. Sighing, the Thalmor fell to his knees – astonished.

Death soon took him to his assumed afterlife.

Seeing that the fight was over, Riften returned to "business" while in a normal city the guards would have brought the three in for questioning. Mjoll's eyes remained wide, staring fearfully towards the Imperial while Aerin had hidden behind her hulking form.

Alodie was breathing heavily; the pain from the magicka bolt still shocked his nerve endings. Sighing, using a small healing spell he learned to tend to his shocked blood, he moved to the two corpses that were now being stepped on by the citizens of Riften. He turned the dead officer over to retrieve his knife and searched his pockets finding a large satchel of gold. Standing, he noticed that he had eyes trained on him and looked up into Mjoll's startled face and Aerin's missing form.

"Who _are_ you?" she asked in wonderment. Alod raised his eyebrows at the question.

"Not dead – as fate would have it."

* * *

**Joor – Mortal **

**Dez – Fate**

**Zeyma – Brother **

**Author's Note: I hope you guys are enjoying it so far as much as I am :)! Remember to review, it's the only way I know what I'm doing wrong and/or right.**


	3. A Chance Arrangment

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_"Thief, eh? It's never too late to take charge of your own fate, you know."_

- Ralof

* * *

**Chapter Two: A Chance Arrangment**

"A noble from Windhelm, eh? And why don't you also tell me the one about old Ragnar the Red and his little spat with Matilda."

Ulfric planted his fist down on the bar and produced a large satchel of gold. The man's eyes widened. When he saw the man being escorted by Stormcloak soldiers, he had thought it was a simple bandit raid coming from the lower Rift disguised as Stormcloaks. If this man was who he said he was though, then gold would be no problem to him.

Ulfric shoved the pile into the Nord's face as his eyes glistened.

"Take it only if you promise me one thing," he began. He sat down on the stool, taking off his burnt and stained fur cloak. "Don't tell anyone I was here or by Talos I _will_ kill you." He nodded to one of his troops beside the door and the soldier checked his sheathed axe, smiling from underneath his helmet.

His name was Ralof and he had made his escape with the Stormcloak leader, Ulfric Stormcloak. The blonde braided haired Nord would have loved to have broken the bartender's bones if only to release some stress but his order was supposed to be more of a threat then a promise. He sighed at his unfortune and decided to instead - as Ulfric asked the Nord civilian strange questions - recollect the events at the town of Helgen. He remembered being practically stuffed into an East Empire Company shipping box -that was his carriage - and remember watching the country side of the lower Rift turn frigid as they went through the Pale Pass towards Cyrodiil. Before they reached the capitol city, however, they came. The Thalmor. And under "the empire's" orders, they turned the caravan around towards the closest settlement, Helgan. With them were a few Imperial soldiers had some meddling border crossing Imperial or other who had been captured for some reason - it must have been a higher order since the caravan had no idea why the dark haired Imperial was even there - he wasn't even sure if General Tulius knew about the guy.

Ralof didn't really find that important though - but it was what happened before the Imperial was about to be executed that really stirred him up. A dark winged dragon had appeared from the clouds and the rest was history. The Imperial he saw and talked to along that rocky road had disappeared after the first blows from the dragon's rock spell and he would probably never see him again. Probably dead, actually. Strange, that Imperial sort of grew on him - his rather dry humored retorts saying Ralof had "given up on life" had brightened him up before his impending doom. It made him wonder if he could have escaped without a dragon's help.

Ralof sighed.

_ Probably not._

Ulfric had finished talking to the bar tender - only learning about something or other of an ancient haunted Nordic tomb. He ordered a few of his soldiers to guard the ruin as he made his way through the town. His fake name was Frelod Dragonstongue and he thought the name was rather perfect statement for his upcoming role as the future Dragonborn. Unless of course, the Greybeards kicked him out like the last time.

The rest of his soldiers had made camp outside the reaches of Ivarstead - Ulfric wanted to remain hidden. He wasn't sure how many Imperial spies there were in this settlement and he didn't want to try and risk it. He wasn't even supposed to be here.

He made it to the bridge with one of his soldiers in toe, he wasn't stupid enough to make the climb alone. If this soldier died along the way, so be it. He shouldn't have volunteered. Ralof frowned as they made their way to High Hrothgar on top of the Throat of the World. Ulfric had never explained why they were heading up here but he knew it had something to do with the dragons. He breathed in some cold wintery air and exhaled a cloud, preparing to make the journey.

* * *

Alodie sat, frowning at a table along with Mjoll at the Bee and Barb, drinking some watered down mead in small gulps. The place was packed for it being midday and the fine smell of honey drifted among the patrons. Alod wondered if that was why it had "bee" in it's name as the Nord in front of him tried to look away from the man but failed to do so.

After the rather heated battle, Aerin had stuttered about going home to get something and left the two after Mjoll tried to insist he stay. Apparently, the frail Imperial was afraid of Alod and Mjoll couldn't blame him. He was a marvel, that was for sure.

She took a swig of ale and grimaced at the watered down taste. _So this is what Maven has brought the world down too_, she thought bitterly_, even the mead holds no substance and this crap's expensive - by Talos_. Alod in front of her had been blankly staring at the wooden walls and hadn't even touched his drink after his first sip and regretted wasting those rare septims. After weak willed Aerin had left, Mjoll had suggested they go to this place since she knew and protected the people owning it. The two Argonians were obviously in love and when they saw Alod with Mjoll, they instantly trusted him. They figured if Mjoll hung around him, the Imperial was okay. Alodie thought that was rather foolish of them.

They were going to have a wedding at the temple of Mara near the end of the month and Alodie was happily invited though he politely declined. He probably was going to move on to another city in a month, he felt like staying in one place would be a mistake.

As they sat, wasting the afternoon away - a crazy ol' priest was going around asking for donations and asking for everyone to "remember your neighbors!" and "don't regret something you wouldn't expect someone else to do!" All rubbish in Alodie's point of view - though apparently one person agreed with him and gave the priest a fat bag of gold.

Alod felt like slamming his tankard down at the sight - maybe because the mead he had was actually making him drunk somehow but he doubted it. The people here were so rich they were basically throwing gold pieces into the air. For some reason, that made him a bit angry.

Mjoll gave a small glance at the Imperial with curiosity. Many questions still filled her mind - one of them being where he had learned to fight like that. Had he been a soldier? He seemed a bit too small to have had that sort of job and he didn't seem very virtuous nor did he have the gold coins of a high ranking Imperial soldier. He also wielded a knife - and a steel blade he had kept from the Thalmor - and not any standard issued weapons. A scout then? He did seem to do well at sneaking around; he had disappeared from underneath her nose in that crowd. He could cloak his presence rather efficiently and he had the right gear for a scout - but scouts wouldn't know anything about sword form or grace. He had been a rough dancer in that battle - graceful yet flowing. No scout or warrior would understand that.

Maybe he's a thief, she thought - but she laughed softly afterwards and Alod turned to stare in her direction. He hadn't found the begging priest that funny and wondered why Mjoll would. She shook her head at his confused glanced and he shrugged. Better not ask.

Half an hour past before Mjoll grew bored and attempted at a conversation again though she doubted she would get anything out of the Imperial.

"You dealt with those brutes rather quickly - have you done this sort of thing before?" she asked. Alod sat back and wondered how much he could tell her – probably nothing at all. _She sure likes to ask questions, doesn't she?_

"I suppose," he said without much further detail. Mjoll groaned.

"You aren't one much for talk, are yah?" she observed.

"If you think so."

"I mean, I'm curious. You don't even look like you would be able to hold a great-sword much less take down a couple of Thalmor."

"Thank you. Your compliment was appreciated," Alod sardonically replied. Mjoll narrowed her eyes at the Imperial and drained the last of her ale with a sigh. She was growing impatient. Her voice grew threateningly low and Alodie instinctually grabbed the hilt of his dagger.

"I've been rather patient with you until now and I think it's getting to the point where this sort of childish behavior is getting old," she threatened. "You're hiding something, and people that hide things are never up to anything good."

"_Mjoll, a silent person is a deadly one and shouldn't be taken lightly."_ She remembered her father telling her those words many years ago. And her late-father's words were her honor. She still felt as if this Imperial could stab her in the back and no one in the tavern would be none the wiser. Trust was hard to come by now-a-days especially with the stupid Civil War going on.

Alodie saw the mistrust in her eyes and relaxed slightly, sitting forward and rested his chin on his hand.

"Fine. What do you want to know?" he asked. He might as well answer her questions in as much detail as he could – he was getting rather tired of this game of cat and mouse.

Before she could open her mouth, the Argonian Talen-Jei came to their table oblivious to the serious discussion.

"Hello my lord and lady. Would you like to have a sample of some of the Barb's special wine's? The Cliff Racer is becoming very popular as of –"

"Not right now Talen," Mjoll interrupted. Talen glanced at the Imperial sitting in front of Mjoll with suspicion before shrugging. The guy was an odd one. Talen-Jei gave an customary Argonian bow and headed down to the cellar to retrieve some apples for a couple. Mjoll faced Alodie and wondered what kind of questions she could ask now that he was actually opening up. If only Aerin was here… she sat up and glanced down at the Imperial. "I want to know why you were like that the other day. Was there a fire or something?"

Alodie considered not answering the Nord's question but decided that the warrior wasn't of any real danger to him and that she was only going to hurt herself later. Her blood was off of his hands.

"Of a sort. I'm surprised no one here has heard of it already." He paused to take a chug at his warm mead and suppressed another gag. "If I tell you, try not to interrupt me. It'll probably sound like I'm crazy, I know. I don't even believe it myself."

Mjoll leaned in a bit closer as if she was a young child listening to an old man telling his stories.

"Go on," she said.

He nodded, coughing slightly still trying to get over the terrible taste of Black-Briar's mead.

"I… really don't know where to start. I don't even know how you'll believe me – but people will learn about it sooner or later." He shifted underneath her scrutiny and loosened his fur gauntlet from his gradually sweating hands. "I was running away from Helgen – do you know this town?" When he saw her nod, he continued. "It's gone now."

Mjoll's eyes widened as she half stood, shaking the table, her battle axe flying from its leaning position. "Gone? What happened to it? Who did this? Was it the Imperials? The Thalmor? Who, by the gods!" Alodie was rather surprised at her emotional response and wouldn't have said anything if she was going to have such a strong reaction to it. Did she have any relatives living there? Friends?

When Mjoll saw the silent Imperial before her stare in awe, she quieted down – picking up her battle axe that had clamored to the ground. No one had minded her outburst since most were engulfed in their own discussions though Keerava was giving the two a worried glance. Alodie continued.

"It isn't _who_ did this. It's _what_ did this." He took out his knife along with its scabbard and placed it on the table. "This knife was from an Imperial soldier – burned by the flames that engulfed Helgen. You may not believe this but I swear on Martin Septim's grave that what I saw was true. And I saw..." He paused in order to prepare himself. "A dragon."

Mjoll remained silent, in complete shock. _A dragon_? What was this Imperial doing? Playing with her mind?

Alodie saw the disbelief in the woman's face and nodded mentally to himself. _Knew she wouldn't believe me_. Well, at least he tried.

"Are you serious? _A dragon_?" She stood up, laughing – grabbing her battle axe and strapping it onto her back. "This is the best you can come up with? Okay, laugh. I caught you in your little prank, Alodie. You may be hiding something but hiding behind some stupid fairy tale-?" When she saw his serious face, she stopped laughing. "Oh come on, there haven't been dragons in over two eras! And even then, people aren't even sure they exist." _He's mad I tell you! Mad, mad, mad!_

"It is rather unbelievable. I don't blame you," he said, trying to reassure her.

She snuffed at that arrogant statement

"Unbelievable? Look, whatever you're getting yourself into, I want no part in it." Then she made her way out of there without looking back. She knew she could just leave him, she was pretty sure Aerin wouldn't mind. But...maybe she shouldn't have just left him alone in there. She paused outside the door pondering whether she should go back inside and actually try to listen to his packet of jokes. Instead, she shook her head. _Stupid Imperial_.

Taking another sip of the Black-Brair mead, Alodie spit it out and sighed. Where could he get a decent drink around here?

Knowing Mjoll wouldn't welcome back someone as crazy as him, he rented a room from Keerava and went towards a corner in the tavern walking past many pamphlets exclaiming Maven's cruel monopoly. Glancing at the bitter words of the lower class, he took down a job notice of the Black-Brair meadery and read it over, scowling. It seemed like a low paying job with too many hours – ending up not really being worth it. He didn't have the time to be prowling around a meadery where the gold wouldn't flow fast enough.

He didn't notice someone standing behind him before they tapped him in the shoulder.

"A bit light in the pockets there, hey lad? Wondering what you could do to fill them?" asked the intruding man with a sly smile. Alodie turned slightly to look at the man, a Nord with bright auburn hair to complement the surrounding scenery. He was dressed rather nicely in a blue silk overcoat with golden chains and Alod guessed him to be a merchant or tradesman. Though he didn't seem to act like one. He narrowed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, what?"

The man held his hip as his grin grew wider as if he was about to reel in a huge fish.

"I'm saying that you have potential. Most wouldn't be able to sneak up onto those elves like that. Most would have alerted them before they had a chance to draw their own weapons. And most wouldn't have the tenacity to do it." He took a step forward and took the pamphlet Alodie had been holding quickly – so quickly that Alodie didn't even have a chance to react. "The meadery lad? Do you know what Indaryn does to new workers? Puts them under the table. Disgusting down there too."

Alodie found himself not following the Nord's words and he found himself jumping suddenly as the Nord put his arm around his shoulders in a bear hold. "You look like a man in need of gold in his pockets. Maybe I could help you with that."

Alodie's face grew hot in anger as he wrestled himself out of the strange Nord's grasp.

"How could you possibly know that?" he asked. The red-headed Nord pointed to the paper plastered wall and Alod mentally slapped himself on how obvious he had been.

"It's about sizing up the mark, lad. And you're a dead giveaway." He said, stepping out of Alod's range. "How they walk, what they wear – and you aren't on the brighter side of things, lad." Alodie snorted out a breath quickly and crossed his arms. He knew his performance out in the marketplace would have drawn eyes. This Nord obviously wanted him to do something. He didn't like where this was going.

"My wealth is none of your business, frankly."

The "merchant" laughed.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong lad. Wealth _is_ my business." He paused looking over the Imperial before him. "You are a curious one. A prodigy – maybe."

_Prodigy? _Alodie smirked as he remembered his childhood and felt like laughing at the Nord. _He has no idea._ He didn't like being stared down like this and he most definitely didn't like being talked down to. He attempted to walk away but was stopped by a hand on the shoulder. _If this Nord makes one move…_

"Hey, easy there. I haven't even gotten into the meat of things." He released Alod after being glared at dangerously and took out a bag of gold pieces – the sound music to his ears. He waved it in front of Alodie's eyes like he was tempting a dog with a bone. He dropped it into his other hand as Alodie's eyes followed. He smiled. "You want to do a job for me. And I always pay my workers the cut they deserve." Alodie gave the man a blank stare as the Nord lifted the bag up. "So what do you say, lad?"

"My name is Alodie, first of all."

The red-head smiled as he brought out his hand from his pocket for the Imperial to make his deal. "Call me Brynjolf, lad."

Alodie rolled his eyes. He obviously was calling him that to piss him off. Byrnjolf, though his presence angered the Imperial, had a point. If he had to lower himself to get some things done then might as well do them. Mjoll seemed to have abandoned him anyway. Alodie, though hesitant, grasped the man's hand in a shake.

"What do you want me to do?"

* * *

The next day, a dark cloud hovered over Riften. The sun barely peaked out from the persistent weather and Alodie shook at this, realizing that the air was becoming much colder with Last Seed finally coming to an end. He stood in front of the Bee and Barb with a solemn face reserved for this type of weather as he remembered the crazy scheme concocted by the insane Nord Brynjolf. He didn't even want to do it but something told him too – like a small intuition of a sort. He found himself wondering what was in store for his future though it definitely didn't look bright.

He fastened his cloak a bit tighter around his shoulders as a pompous Nord walked out of the Inn glaring knives at him. He wondered what he did to make the man so angry before remembering his angered drunk face the night before exclaim his rather upfront hate of all Imperials. _All of them._

He sighed and shook his head wondering what was wrong with the people of the world. What was wrong with _him_. After all, he didn't want to get stuck in a gang or a cult – he ran. He had to run. He knew he had no choice or they would find him. And when they found him, he wouldn't be able to resist cutting their throats out.

Alodie made his way to the market square preparing to do what Brynjolf wanted him to do. Which was what exactly? Blame someone else for a crime that was his crime in the first place. It sounded confusing to him at first but he started getting a hang of the plan – or Brynjolf's plan – going over his course of action as prescribed by the "merchant."

He had asked about Byrnjolf's position in the world with Keerava and when he did her Argonian scales shuddered.

"I would stay away from him, stranger. I don't want to be losing any handsome guests such as yourself." And without any further detail, she continued washing the mead stained wooden bar.

He also had another dream last night as well but this time it was only a light. A rather dim yet silent light. Without warning, the ground shuddered underneath his feet and a loud shout ripped him off of his feet. His instincts told him to flee yet he instead got up and was rooted in his spot – only looking into that soft incandescent beacon in the darkne-

He was shaken from his day dream fiercely by an elbow to the gut and a serious grin from a red-headed man.

"You ready for this lad? I hope you don't disappoint."

Alodie rubbed his chest gently, checking for misplaced ribs.

"Sure. Whatever you say."

He was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder and Bryjolf's cold grey eyes met his with an almost deadly force. He hadn't expected such violence from the con man and had let his guard down _again_. He cursed himself again for spacing out like that _again_. _I seem to be doing that a lot recently_.

"If you mess this up, Alo, I'll make sure the Guild makes you regret your callus words. Now, shape up and don't screw up," Byrnjolf whispered harshly before releasing the short Imperial's tanned cloak. Alodie grimaced at the terrible nickname Brynjolf gave him and looked at the "merchant's" retreating form. So, people in Skyrim threatened others to do their crimes for them? Apparently so.

Forgetting Byrnjolf's strong warning, he looked around the district trying to sort out who was who. He knew he had to find an Argonian by the name of Brand-Shei and another by the name of Madasi. However, he could only find one Argonian out of all of the venders posted. He held his chin in confusion. _This must be some mistake_, he thought. Did Brynjolf give him the wrong name? Was he not a merchant and merely another part of the populous? What trickery was this Nord spouting out of his mouth?

He went to glare at the con artist but found that he had disappeared underneath his stand sorting out a few things. Before he could go over there and ask, he stood up quickly producing two tall red colored bottles.

"Everyone, everyone! Gather round! Hear my sordid tale of the Falmer Elixir only for sale in my fair establishment."

The gathering crowd poked their heads up at Byrnjolf, many shaking their heads muttering "Not again Brynjolf!" or "What does he want this time?" Alod saw this, however, as opportunity. As soon as everyone had mingled over to Brynjolf's stall – only curious over how stupid his scam seemed to be this time – he edged his way over to the Argoninan Madesi's stall. He noticed that the guards had cleared the area for some reason and though he should be normally alarmed at this, he took his chance at the safe below the jeweler's stall.

He didn't have lockpicks and when he told Byrnjolf this, the "merchant" pulled out a few from his pocket as Alod eyed him with suspicion. Well, he wasn't doing anything legal in the first place. He didn't like how he was doing this for seemingly no reason either. Did he just want the coin? Did he not want this Nord clinging around his back? He wasn't sure.

For a brief moment, he wondered what Mjoll would say if she saw him do something like this. Probably something rash and petty. Alodie was used to doing these sorts things, all of his life he had been trained to commit immoral deeds. He was a cold-hearted killer and had been for the longest of years.

For some reason though, he would never tell Mjoll that. For some reason.

He unlocked the safe with ease and took not only the ring but a few gleaming sapphires as well. He never heard any rules against helping himself. As he did, he heard a clear Dark Elf voice among the crowd.

"Aren't the Falmer supposed to be extinct? What are you trying to pull?"

Alodie edged his way closer in order to hear the two's exchange more clearly.

"Ah, but my dear Brand-Shei! That's where you're wrong lad. There are still living breathing Falmer out there in the world."

Brand-Shei was a Dunmer merchant, not an Argonian one. Smirking slightly at his stupid presumptions, he snuck over to where the Dark Elf sat on a few imported boxes of Cyrodiilic Brandy. The crowd, including Brand-Shei, was so transfixed on Bryjolf's detailed description of the Falmer's living state that he slipped the ring in his back pocket with no word that the Dunmer had realized his presence. Scowling at his petty and foolish act, he stood up and eyed Byrnjolf with his golden like eyes. Seeing this, the red-haired Nord laughed softly before the gathered crowd.

"Well now, looks like my time is up. Buy my new Falmer Elixir, only fifty gold a bottle! You won't regret it."

"What a waste of time," he heard Brand-Shei mutter. Alod mentally smiled at the phrase, noting how time seemed to have flown by so quickly as he did Byrnjolf's stupid errand. The Nord better be giving him a fair cut.

He walked over to Byrnjolf's smiling form, eyes still solid from their last meeting.

"Looks like I've found a diamond in the rough." Brynjolf laughed to himself as Alodie grimaced. _Just give me my damn pay_. Shaking out a bag full of gold, the Nord passed it to Alod as subtly as he could though no one bothered standing around Byrnjolf's stall after that rather obvious scam. Alodie rolled his eyes at the rather light weight of the purse and glanced over Brynjolf's smirking features.

"I think you owe me much more then that," he muttered. After all, he didn't like acting on a gang's behalf without any great reason to do it. He felt as if he was being controlled.

Byrnjolf surprisingly laughed at this and produced another bag that was a bit heavier hidden behind one of the "Falmer Elixirs." _What a terrible name for a product_.

"Nothing gets by you," he started – still laughing. "You know, I like you kid. All alone without anyone telling you what's what in the world yet here you are! Actually, you remind me of someone I used to know, lad. He was a bit less cold in the eye as you but none-the-less, your technique is the same."

He laughed a bit louder this time making Alodie finch. "And a bit more humorous! Come on, laugh you big baby!" He struck Alod in the back rather strongly – and unexpectedly – causing the small Imperial to jolt. He would never take this Nord's _joke_ as a joke. He could read a person by their eye movements and it was obvious that the man wanted something from him. Or maybe he was simply used to people expecting things from him. It wouldn't be the first time.

He humored the man though with a small smile – though a bit more cruel than expected. To the thief, he looked more like he was going to puke green goblin slime from his throat. At this, Brynjolf held his sides heavily, catching himself for air. Alodie, again, didn't see what was so funny.

Before long, Brynjolf and Alod had found themselves outside on Riften's docks smelling the fish encrusted air. Alodie, curious, followed the Nord's lead outside – though it seemed as if Brynjolf just wanted some privacy for what he would ask next.

"I want you to join the Thieves Guild," Brynjolf told him unexpectedly. Alodie narrowed his eyes at this, kicking over a rotten piece of wood into the waters below. He couldn't join anything, not with all hell breaking loose across Tamriel with political plots he couldn't simply ignore. But didn't he just tell himself how stupid all of that had been? He wasn't going to change his mind and run straight back to Cyrodiil with open arms screaming "Take me back!" He ran ahead and ahead alone – he smirked at how true that dragon had been. And how he wished it was all simply a dream. And maybe he would find that light, somewhere. Someday.

Meanwhile, he would take whatever opportunity he could get. He figured himself young – twenty-five – and old enough to correct any mistakes he made before they could stab him in the back. Some told him he just couldn't say no to people, and maybe those people were right. He just wasn't sure he could become something as irresponsible as a thief.

"_I have nowhere else to go!" _He remembered his own words from within the dream and sighed deeply. As he did, rain began to pour on the two in large quantities and neither flinched from the cold sprays from both above and below. He leaned on the port, gazing out towards a very large mountain to the West that had no name to him yet many to others.

"I'm not a thief, Brynjolf," Alodie said. Brynjolf found these words familiar to him and realized an old thief named Gallus had uttered those words to him before he left to meet his fate under Karliah's blade. He felt a bit saddened at the loss of their once great Guild master and shrugged, repeating the words he had told him long ago under a different sky.

"You don't call yourself a thief lad. You just are one."

And Alodie would soon find Byrnjolf's words meaning more than they could ever be.

* * *

**Author's Note: I hope these chapters aren't too long! I'm afraid people wouldn't pay to much attention if it was long :sweat:. But I'm only writing until I feel as if the chapter should end so...btw I won't be uploading for a while due to exams catching up on me but I might resume with a lot more written in the summer. ****I also am expecting this to be about novel sized - maybe shorter. I have lots of ideas for this like never before.** Stay tuned!


	4. The Rat Ways

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

"_Ah, but that's where you're wrong, lad. Wealth is my business._"

Brynjolf

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Rat Ways**

Mjoll stood, facing her wardrobe in anticipation, wondering where Alodie went running off too. She had left him alone in that tavern after he spouted some ridicules thing about dragons at Helgen. If that's what he passed as a joke then she was afraid to meet the real Alodie. An assassin? Cold hearted killer? Ha, he belonged here in Riften then. She hoped he never saw the Imperial again.

Aerin, when she got home that night, was found down in the cellar going through his family swords and knives as if he was going to raise an army. He told her that he only want to learn how to protect himself and not rely on Mjoll and...that Imperial...but when he swung the sword at a barrel, his feet had been totally off balanced and fell flat on his face. Mjoll was still laughing, even now.

They left that morning to find Brynjolf stirring up something again. She tried to scan the crowd for any pick pockets but found no one. Though, maybe her eyes were still getting used to the cloudy morning. Aerin pursed his lips at Brynjolf's tale and shook his head. If anyone believed in this scam, he would run into a pack of werewolves naked.

When Mjoll realized the man looking towards someone, she glanced over to meet Alodie's small form who stood by the rock fence innocently. His eyes, though, were only trained on Byrnjolf. _What does he think he's doing? That buffoon!_

The red-headed Nord brandished a smile and dismissed everyone who had wasted their time for the spectacle. She attempted to speak to Alod but a guard about her height stood in front of her, glaring.

"Move along citizen." He turned and marched towards Brand-Shei's stall while he sat back down after all of the commotion.

"Yeah? What do you want officer?"

"Turn out your pockets Brand-Shei. I know you have a ring in there."

"A ring? What ring, I don't know what you're talking abou-" As he said this, Brand-Shei searched his pockets before finding something he didn't recognize in his trousers. "B-but I didn't-! I didn't know this was here. This is a frame up!"

The guard then unsheathed his sword and when he did, Mjoll stepped forward.

"What's the problem here officer?" she asked. The Riften guard glared at the meddling Nord, sneering under his helmet.

"Taking care of business here in fair Riften."

Mjoll frowned as she looked near Brynjolf's stall. He along with Alod had completely disappeared. _Figures_. She had a bad feeling about the Imperial ever since he set foot in Riften and if he joined the Thieves "Guild", she wouldn't be surprised. She had hoped, though, that he wasn't who she thought he had been. Hope, however, was a rare thing to have in Riften. The guard, knowing he outnumbered the two, took the poor Dunmer by the shoulders and led him by the point of his sword. Mjoll knew she couldn't do anything and cursed herself for it. People needed to fight back! Nothing would change if the poor simply watched travesty ensue. One Nord ex-adventurer and one weak willed Imperial could do nothing. Unless...

She smirked. "Come on, Aerin. We're going home to get a few septims."

Aerin looked his Nord friend over with confusion.

"What are you doing, Mjoll?"

She turned around and began walking back to her house with Aerin in tow.

"Releasing that Dark Elf."

* * *

After Alodie's discussion with Brynjolf, the young Imperial was instructed to find the Ragged Flagon beneath Riften in the Rat Ways. Without Brynjolf even pointing in a general direction the Rat Ways were in, Alod had a hard time tracking the entrance. They obviously had it well hidden and locked from any would be trespassers, though he eventually found the place under the market square past a few damaged and unoccupied homes. He noticed a pattern – the rich lived above the small rivers flowing through town while the poor lived beside it next to the Rat Ways. He wouldn't have been surprised if Riften had literally been a hole before it was inhabited by people.

The rain continued to pound onto his form as he marched down the wooden ramp towards an iron gate. He smirked slightly as he tugged on the iron caged door and sighed, grabbing a lockpick from his side pouch.

The lock was surprisingly difficult for an old gate and Alod broke at least a couple lockpicks before it swung open. Looking around and checking to see if the coast was clear, he walked down the slimy steps towards the Rat Ways. Skeevers scurried past him as he eased a heavy door closed and was suddenly enclosed in darkness.

He felt his hand against the grimy wall and walked down another set of stairs. The torches from above gave off a low light that filtered down towards the lower levels of the sewers and a stink Alodie couldn't place drifted through his nostrils. He ignored it the best he could as he stepped lightly onto the stone floor, hearing whispering voices down the hall.

"They won't find out, I know so. We left no traces."

He heard a shift that was supposedly a nod and the elf like voice sighed. "The Thieves Guild is not a Guild of fools, muscle brain. Once we escape I'll make sure we will get what we should have deserved."

"Yeah, didn't you say we would be living like Jarls? Have our own palace and everything?"

Alodie heard a low laugh then a shift as he took a few steps forward. Alodie edged his way closer to get a better look at the pair but not close enough to get a look at their faces. Instead, he chose to hide in an antechamber beside the hall, a pipe leaking water from the streets. The noise that it gave off allowed him extra cover as he prepared to fight the two convicts. He unsheathed his knife and held it low to the ground as he crouched, making good cover. He would stalk them until they left themselves open, and then he would strike.

"Of course we will. Once we leave of course. After all, we know the secret way in. We'll show the Thieves Guild what happens to those they banish. First we'll take everything in their little hole and then—"

"And then we'll slaughter them all!"

"_Shh_! Quiet you fool, they're going to kill us if we aren't too careful."

Keeping his attention on the pair, he braced himself as the Wood Elf said he was going to see if they hadn't been followed. Alodie frowned as the archer came closer, his steps echoing down the hall. The elf unwisely had no sense of the coming danger and at that Alod smiled. It definitely made his job easier. Before he could strike his prey, the Bosmer paused to sniff the drafted air. He stood beside the antechamber Alodie was in and the Imperial completely stopped breathing. He was confident he could take care of the Wood Elf but he wasn't quite sure about the Nord. He knew he could overpower larger opponents if he wanted to but it usually never ended well for him.

He touched his forearm gently, remembering the past, as he gazed at the Wood Elf's dark eyes searching for him. He edged closer, the smell of the Bosmer's fear flowing off of him in waves. This would not be easy. Then, Alodie attacked – standing up and fluidly stabbing the poor Bosmer's back. He heard a grunt as Alodie pierced the mer's heart then a soft sigh of death he was very well familiar with. The body dropped to the ground softly and the skeevers rejoiced at the smell of fresh blood.

Before Alodie could plan his assault on the Nord, he heard a loud shout from down the hall.

"Drolith? What is taking you so damn lon—?" The Nord spotted a hooded figure standing above his friend's dead body as he let out a howl. "You bastard!"

Alodie spotted him sooner and had already drawn his sword, the buzzing of electricity ripping through the air and his arm. The Nord held his battle axe out and charged towards the small Imperial like a battering ram, so fast that Alodie barely had any time to jump out of the way. The Nord, unexpectedly, twisted around and threw his axe at the Imperial. A loud crash echoed down the hall as Alodie desperately deflected the heavy weapon away from his form with both of his blades. Before he could gather his bearings, the Nord charged him again, tackling the small statured Imperial to the ground. Alod's sword spun away from his hand leaving only his knife hand at the ready. The Nord grinned realizing he had the advantage in this fight. This weakling could never overpower him when it came to brute strength.

It soon became the image of an everyday bar fight as the Nord pummeled at the small Imperial's exposed head. Alodie ignored the blood forming in his mouth as his raised his knife, the attacks stopping as the Nord frantically attempted to stop the ascending blade.

Alodie's eyes grew deadly as the Nord's remained bloodshot. Both of them remained still, neither gave in even when Alod seemed as if he wouldn't be able hold the largely muscled Nord's grip forever. The warrior was surprised at this and faltered slightly giving Alodie the opening he needed. The knife buried itself into the man's throat; the Nord gurgled his last breath kicking at the Imperial beneath him. Alod made no movements as he choked the life out of the warrior, his body growing still, eyes glazed.

_So is the fate of battle_, Alodie thought bitterly, moving the heavy body off of him. He stood shakily, rubbing the blood that had formed on his chin then he continued down the Rat Ways, ever prepared to fight for his life once more.

* * *

Whiterun – the central point of all of Skyrim and the trading center to all. The town was a few kilometers wide and sat atop a small hill. Farmlands dotted the surrounding area using the water from the spring that sprouted from beneath the city to fertilize their crops. The White River flowed past a traveling caravan as a farmer led a painted ox down the road. Summer was ending and winter would soon begin. Winter was ever present in Skyrim,Season Unendingas an old Nordic proverb went. War without end. An old woman walked out of her small cottage and sniffed the air fondly, smiling. She felt something within the breeze— in the air. Kyne's spirit flowed amongst them.

Jarl Balgruuf frowned at his Housecarl, Irileth, and fixed his gaze to the overhanging dragon's skull from his ancestors. He shook his head.

"I still can't believe what you are telling me is true Irileth. I mean, a _dragon_?"

Irileth, both a dear friend and protector to the Jarl, frowned, her red eyes blinking away doubt.

"I know sir, it's a farfetched proposition but that's what all of the surviving Imperial scouts have been reporting. The smoke from above the mountains wasn't a Stormcloak ambush as we first believed it to be."

The Jarl's steward, Proventus Avenicci, scoffed at the Dunmer with an almost antagonistic sneer. Avenicci was a stick of a man and maybe even had another stick stuck elsewhere. He always thought himself the voice of reason within Balgruuf's court – even when most Nords doubted his "Imperial judgment" – and now was the time for reason. There just couldn't be a _dragon_. What nonsense!

"You can't be serious, Irileth. These soldiers are delirious. Probably spreading some stupid rumor around to hide the truth. The truth that they lost Ulfric Stormcloak."

Irileth glared at the Imperial with her raven like eyes.

"Proventus, why do you always want to take the easy way out? If these soldiers were delirious they wouldn't all have the same reports and descriptions. Every one of them tells of a black dragon and flying rocks from the sky. Now, you tell me that isn't the truth."

"It _isn't_, Irileth. How is all of that even possible? Do you even know what you're –"

"Enough, _both_ of you."

Irileth and Proventus turned to look respectively at their Jarl seated upon his golden and blue leathered throne. Dragonsreach, the highest point of Whiterun, was all in commotion – guards that had normally one post were running from one place to another. The entire city knew of an impending attack from either dragons or Stormcloaks – both risking the trading hub of Skyrim. Both his right hand man and left hand woman left their arguments hanging to allow their Jarl to think his plans over.

Jarl Barlgruuf wanted to ensure the safety of all civilians, so he ordered the wooden gates to the city sealed for the time being and commanded no one to pass unless by his own decree. General Tulius hadn't been heard from since last week and at this news, the Jarl's face grew dark. In one week, just one, Ulfric could have the time to plan a retaliation against Whiterun. He knew his city was next on Ulfric's list. General Tulius, though nearly as pig headed and foolish as Ulfric, would be a terrible loss. Probably ensure a Stormcloak victory. At this, the Jarl of Whitrun sighed deeply. The Emperor seemed too caught up in his own inner politics to be worried over Skyrim's stupid Civil War. He assured himself that he would fight either Imperials or Stormcloaks if they tried to take over his city. He would not stand by and allow his people to be pushed around like a mammoth herd.

And now, there was talk of dragons. _Dragons_. The gods were all laughing in their faces right about now, Balgruuf was sure of it. They needed water, and food, and shelter in case a dragon brings entire sections of the city down…So much to do, so little time. He didn't, however, realize how short his time truly was.

A Nord in red Imperial armor rapidly came storming into the keep followed by a few of Whiterun's soldiers. His face was frantic and his hands shook as he stormed past the large bonfire set in the middle of the room.

"Jarl Balgruuf! I need to speak with the Jarl!"

Irileth reacted immediately, drawing her thin sword from a plain yet sturdy scabbard

"What does an Imperial soldier want with Jarl Balgruuf?" she said murderously. He stopped a few feet from the throne as he realized the Dunmer's extended sword and bowed deeply in respect.

"I'm sorry Jarl Balgruuf but I don't have much time. My name is Hadvar. I come from the settlement of Riverwood with a message." He took a second to eye the Dark Elf's razor sharp saber as she lowered it slightly, still prepared to slice his throat.

"Whatever message it is, you can tell me. The Jarl isn't up for visitors."

The Jarl cleared his throat and sat up, peering into the Imperial soldier's eyes with curiosity. The Nord soldier had long dark brown hair and his face made him appear to be in his late thirties – maybe younger, maybe older. War did a lot to a man. The Jarl waved his hand.

"Who said I wasn't up for visitors, Irileth? I want to hear this," the Jarl said. Irileth looked back at him as if he was crazy as she sheathed her sword, stepping back.

"As you wish my Jarl."

Hadvar stepped forward, still bowing his head. He had lived in Whiterun for a short while before the war and he respected the blond haired Jarl. To run such a busy city with such efficiency must have taken a great and powerful leader to manage it all.

He told the Jarl of his journey, his rest in Riverwood, and the black dragon that was heading towards Whiterun. His uncle had been worried for Riverwood's safety and although he was told to stay a bit longer, Hadvar left for Whiterun anyway. They needed soldiers, always needed soldiers. They were defenseless before both dragons and Stormcloaks. The south had become a dangerous place ever since Ulfric took Falkreath Hold a month ago and their only connection to Cyrodiil now was through Markarth. Bloody _Markarth_.

Balgruuf remained silent, nodding his head at the Imperial soldier's story. So, it was true. Helgen had fallen to a dragon. Hadvar certainly didn't _look_ crazy.

"I understand. It's amazing you were even able to survive, Hadvar, against a dragon. When one does attack, I'm sure you would be of use to Whiterun."

At this Hadvar shook his head. He had to return to the front lines, General Tulius needed every able bodied man that had survived Helgen. Dragons were a threat to Ulfric but they were a threat to the Empire as well. If needed, he could ask Tulius to send a few hundred men down here to defend against a dragon. Hadvar suggested this to the Jarl but Balgruuf shook his head. "Whiterun only defends Whiterun. I thought you knew this already, soldier?"

Hadvar sighed. "You are rather stubborn, Jarl Bargruuf. I only hope your city can withstand an attack by that thing. Helgen certainly didn't."

Irileth snarled at the Nord before her and took a hold of her hilt. Balgruuf waved a hand for her to stand down while Proventus' frown burrowed into his face. He had to admit the arrogance of both Imperial and Stormcloak troops baffled him. He could understand why neither of them got along.

The Jarl of Whiterun sat back in his throne to think his defenses over. If he sent a squadron of soldiers to Riverwood then that would be the amount they wouldn't have to defend Whiterun. He didn't want to be a cold heartless bastard and leave the small logging village defenseless, however.

He found himself hard pressed to make a decision. "Irileth, order a platoon of soldiers to Riverwood and make sure they're all well supplied with weapons and food."

She bowed to the Jarl in agreement – though she was a bit troubled by the decision. She was afraid for both the Jarl and Whiterun's safety but she had to do as she was ordered even when the order made no strategically sense. Riverwood was a relatively newer settlement compared to others and could be sacrificed. However, lumber was an important resource for the war time efforts and it would be stupid to give all of that up.

Hadvar nodded a thanks towards the Jarl as the House Carl left them to give out their leader's orders.

The Imperial soldier was about to leave before the Jarl called back to him. "Were there anymore survivors, soldier?" he asked the dusty haired Nord. Hadvar looked back at the Jarl with a wary glance.

"If by Imperial soldiers, I don't know. If by civilians, I saved as much as I could." He paused to turn around. "If by prisoners, many had escaped within the fires. I thought it imprudent to hunt Ulfric down when an entire village was burning to the ground. But…" He remembered fighting off a dark haired Imperial who had run off after completely disarming him. It had happened to fast and so suddenly that Hadvar didn't even have the chance to chase after him. It was obvious to him though, that the Imperial wasn't a Stormcloak soldier and was never meant to be on that carriage in the first place. If he had been, the Imperial would have run towards stupid Ralof when he called for him. His eyes narrowed as he remembered his old friend then sighed. "…I believe there was something more to this 'execution', Jarl Balgruuf, then what was first assumed." He began walking away from the Jarl after that, nodding to a guardsman. "Excuse me."

Balgruuf's brow remained knotted along with his face.

The Jarl of Whiterun sighed. "Well, back to business Proventus."

* * *

Alodie stood before a wide creaking door, silently wavering yet curious as to what was on the other side. He balanced on his toes as he peered through the doorway seeing the back of a bandit sharpening his knife. He leered silently then eased forward, avoiding any puddles or rocks as he descended upon the unfortunate burglar. He had a feeling none of the people he had killed in the Rat Ways so far had been a member of the Thieves Guild – there was no organization in their attacks. They were all common criminals hiding from Riften's flexible laws. Disposing of them would probably be a favor for this lawless city.

The crook began humming a nameless tune as if he was some innocent little girl and the act made Alod flinch, his knife hand grasping the hilt tighter. As the bandit hit a nasally B flat, Alod drew his knife up to the man's throat and twisted, warm blood trickling down into his fingers. The bandit didn't even have time to scream in terror as his final note finished reverberating throughout the hall.

Alodie had finally made it to the Ragged Flagon. He swallowed down the bitter taste of nervousness as he walked through the door marked "Danger!" Wherever the Thieves Guild was, it was definitely marked with danger. He hadn't expected, however, to see a domed roof along with the salty smell of fish and lake water and a pier like tavern to be the result. A bitter copper like odor seemed to hover above the water like a cloud and a large gathering of people of all sizes and shapes talked beneath the dim lighting of the bar.

Alod pulled his hood down to reveal his solemn face and walked past the few stationed torches, glaring towards the gathered thieves. He wouldn't say this was much of an organization rather than a random rabble of fools but really, he shouldn't be complaining – after all, he was the one who decided to follow up with Brynjolf's "plan." Why was he doing this again?

He felt like shaking his head as a familiar looking man reached for his axe. He wore dark green leather with a marking of two crossed daggers on his chest pocket along with a permanent grimace that threatened even the nonexistent fish that swam beneath the Rat Ways. Alodie, however, never stirred.

"What is a milk-drinker like you doing down here?" he threatened, bearing teeth. Alodie shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know – wanted to see how the weather was doing down here beneath the sewers. What do _you_ think I'm doing down here?" he snapped back.

"You must be Brynjolf's prodigy he's been blabbering on about." The man bristled and stepped back, sniffing the disgusting air. "Some prodigy you are." Alodie ignored the brash comment and began walking forward in confident steps only to be barred by the heavy set man once again. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, _wait_. Hold it right there little guy. How do I know you aren't a spy for the Jarl, eh? Or for Maven's competitors? Brynjolf might like you but I don't." Alodie looked at the man as if he had grown an extra head and tried to look around the bar to see if his new "friend" would help him out here. Brynjolf, however, was nowhere to be found. He would have to take matters into his own hands.

Taking the rough man's dark eyes into his own bright ones his gaze turned into a feral, ominous pose. The familiar man, fighting the urge to stand down, only met his eyes with his own cold ones.

"What is going on here Dirge?" Alodie heard a nasally voice from the crowd of pickpockets. The strangely named Imperial, Dirge, turned to face a stout man with a broken nose and small pointed features. Dirge frowned at the man then pointed his finger at the newcomer.

"This upstart wants to pick a fight. I was only obliging."

The man shook his head sharply as a crooked smirk formed on his face.

"Are you sure it wasn't _you_ who wanted to pick a fight, Dirge?"

Dirge almost looked offended at the statement and returned his glare to the Imperial before him. Alodie was standing patiently by, his face returning to its normal position—emotionless. Alodie did seem rather curious to him and maybe that was why Brynjolf took such a fancy to him. The Imperial did have a very charismatic charm about him.

Stepping back, growling incoherent words, Dirge watched as Alod walked past the Ragged Flagon's barnacled sign. Delvin, a shrewd yet well know thief, led the Imperial before a table surrounded by Argonians, Khajiits, and Nords whose shouts and curses echoed throughout the tavern.

"Then, the Thieves Guild will return to former glory!" Brynjolf shouted, raising his cup. The many thieves around the table echoed his actions.

"To former glory!"

The group then dispersed into their own discussions, some glaring at the newcomer with suspicion. Alodie couldn't see Delvin's expression but he felt the man was annoyed at Brynjolf's sudden presence. He could understand why.

Delvin walked up to the red headed Nord with a scowl, pointing his thumb towards the Imperial behind him.

"You have a guest, Brynjolf," he said bitterly. Brynjolf stopped drinking his tankard of heavy mead and sat up abruptly, his eyes shining.

"And here he is the man of the hour. Everyone, everyone, come and see. Here is the Imperial I was talking about— the man with the gods at his side."

Everyone suddenly made a 180 and the entire tavern went silent as they gazed expectantly at Alodie. Unsure as to why he was getting so much attention, Alod scratched his head in an attempt to look confused yet secretly he cursed Brynjolf for garnering him so many stares. It made him feel uncomfortable to say the least.

And "_the man with the gods at his side_"? That had to be the most bluntly ironic statement he has ever heard in his life.

Brynjolf continued to have that stupid smile of his plastered on his face as the crowd considered their new competitor. He sipped his liquor fondly. _This should be fun. _"So lad, you decided to come down here after all. I thought your _morals_ would be a bit too much for our underground society."

Alodie looked around the tavern – a pale haired Imperial leaning against a few boxes in a corner eyed him with consideration. Vex wasn't one to question or even revere newcomers, but they hadn't had anyone new since the incident with those two idiots. The Bosmer and Nord had caused trouble for the Guild as soon as they started demanding for the "Amulet of Kings" or "Symmachus' Dagger." They obviously were expecting way too much of their Guild. She was afraid that after she had expelled them, she had done something to hurt the Guild in some way. She sighed shaking her head. No… it was the Guild's spell of "bad luck" Brynjolf always went on about. She wasn't very superstitious though, and neither was anyone else except Delvin, but she felt as if everyone had believed him. For once.

And now another spell of bad luck was coming their way in the form of this young dark haired Imperial.

Alodie narrowed his eyes at Brynjolf while he remained standing. The Nord took notice of this and motioned with his tankard. "Please, sit. This discussion might go on for a while." He took a sip out of his tankard and noticed Alodie's frozen gaze. He smiled. "Firstly, what do you think of our remarkable guild?" Brynjolf asked.

Alod remained motionless. "If you want the truth, I think that your _guild_ is a bunch of rabble."

Vex sat up from the crates and headed towards the two, the crowd speechless at the bitter yet honest words of the Imperial. She would stop this mess right now before it went over their heads.

"I'm sorry but I think you should leave. Go be an asshole somewhere else. Meanwhile, get some respect," she voiced. Many thieves looked at each other as if they were going to target Alodie before Byrnjolf sighed loudly, finishing his sweet mead.

"You always want to ruin everyone's fun, don't you Vex? He's only giving us his opinion and an accurate opinion at that. No need to get all protective."

"I would shut your mouth, Byrnjolf. You know that Mercer wouldn't take in this kid and Mercer's word is law. _No more newcomers."_

Alodie smirked at the thought of there being law among _thieves_ but didn't voice the observation. He was already angering this woman well enough and didn't want to throw salted water onto the open wound. Might as well let Brynjolf handle it.

The smirking Nord rolled his eyes as he gazed pleasantly towards the bar tender.

"Another round if you don't mind, Vekel."

"Are you listening to me, Bryn?"

"Well, maybe Mercer needs to learn how to lead our little group with more 'umph.' We need a change Vex and you know it. He's joining us."

Vex simmered quietly in anger as she gave the Imperial observing the dispute an icy glare. Trust was hard to come by, especially amongst the Thieves Guild. Traitors made themselves known every day and more were cheating the Guild out of their cut. This Imperial spelled trouble for the Guild and trouble for her. _He won't last long_, she thought. _Not when he meets Mercer._

Alodie found most of the pickpockets around him were giving him openly hostile glares and he felt that Byrnjolf was losing this fight. He had to intervene.

Sitting down as Byrnjolf had asked him to earlier, he sat forward and talked to Brynjolf, ignoring Vex.

"I haven't decided anything yet."

The Nord gave the lad a curious stare and sat forward, Vekel sliding his drink on the bar beside him though he strangely ignored it. This Imperial had a way of getting his way and seemed to know the right words to do it. Smirking, he glanced up at Vex.

"Caught a great one, haven't I?" he asked jeeringly. She felt like punching the Nord's insides but instead crossed her arms in denial. Alodie had the spunk of a double crossing thief but did he have a triple crossing one? Brynjolf looked at Alodie who appeared to be getting a bit annoyed. The Imperial didn't like being talked about when he was sitting right there in front of them. So, in order to gain their attention, he coughed rather loudly.

"I'm not here for idle talk and unless there is anything important I'm supposed to be doing I'll more than happily leave." _What a waste of time_, he thought. Making to get up, Alodie sighed as the red haired Nord raised a hand shaking his head at the young energy the lad had.

"Sorry about my friend here," – he heard Vex huff at the mention of "friend" as he continued—"but I believe that I do in fact have a task for you. If you're up to it." Alodie perked his ears up, almost like a hound Brynjolf thought in amusement, and sat more securely in his seat. Byrnjolf wondered how the boy could have gotten through the Rat Ways with such edginess and spunk though his display the other day in the market taught him to not take this lad lightly.

This would be his test, his test of trust if he would ever be able to join the ranks of the Thieves Guild. He knew people wouldn't trust the man if he simply let him in but maybe they could trust his obedience. Obedience was the one word most thieves despised –himself included – but every organization had to have its mandates. Even when he knew the Guild had no such thing anymore. There was only one rule within the Thieves Guild – no killing. They were not simple bandits and thugs, the Guild Master and Maven had made such a thing clear.

Brynjolf wondered if Alodie would be able to follow such a rule.

He took his second tankard of mead and began explaining to Alodie his mission.

"I believe you need to prove yourself to the Guild before Mercer could ever accept you. And before you say anything about not joining the Guild, it's too late. You're on the map, lad." And by on the map he meant on Maven's map. He took a tender sip and passed Vex a nervous glance. "I remember you hanging around Mjoll's place. Did she save you out of her tender heart? Aerin give you the 'I saved your life' look? Well, to the Thieves Guild, they are a nuisance. She wastes her time trying to save people that are already damned, including you. If you want to join the Guild I only want you to prove to me one thing." He paused to look over Alod's expression. He had expected more of a surprised look but instead he found him to be rather emotionless, deep in thought. "That you have the utmost obedience to us." The Imperial's face grew dark. He couldn't believe he had left himself so wide open to this Nord. He knew that Mjoll would have run into danger because of him someday but he hadn't expected to do the physical damage. Although they had their misgivings, he had actually grown to like the Nord's company though short lived. He never wanted to betray anyone ever again, not like he had in Cyrodiil.

Brynjolf continued though a bit slower. "Maven wants Mjoll to lose her power amongst the city's civilians and to do that we need an excuse. A frame up, like the one we did with poor old Brand-Shei, except in a much grander scale." He bent in closer so that those surrounding them wouldn't eavesdrop. "Mjoll the Lioness is hereby charged of murder."

Alodie's eyes widened slightly as he stared at the innocent thief. The dark brotherhood. They had to be it. If the murder had been already carried out or if it was a bluff, he wasn't sure. He didn't even know who had been killed for the Guild's – no – Maven's stupid games. But to accuse Mjoll of _murder_? Who would believe that? Who would be stupid enough to think that? Brynjolf definitely was. But maybe, maybe it was in Mjoll's best interest to leave the Rift. After all, she would be much safer elsewhere then here.

Vex's eyes stirred as the young Imperial's face scrunched up in conflict. He wouldn't last, she knew it. The Imperial had never taken this entire thing seriously just as Brynjolf never took this seriously. Though, maybe he decided it would be in the Imperial's best interests if he knew what he was up against. He had to be ready to betray his closest friends when the time came or if it ever came. Vex certainly had more than twenty years ago. And still was. After Gallus's death, Brynjolf took no chances. He didn't want that to happen again.

For once Vex agreed with Byrnjolf's decisions though she didn't want to admit it, at least not out loud. She would simply let this play out as it would with the "prodigy" exiting with his tail between his legs.

Vex, however, was completely and utterly surprised when she found herself _wrong_, choking on her own thoughts as the Imperial's shoulders sank.

"I'll do it."

* * *

**Edit: I just looked up that Dirge was actually an Imperial (though it was rather hard to tell in-game though! Seemed like a Nord to me...) so I made the change accordingly.**

**A/N: Sorry about the delay but as you can see, this chapter is much longer then normal making up for it :). Oh! And please review, I feel like I'm performing for a silent audience -_-. If my story is bad, tell me. If it's boring, tell me. I want to improve! **

**Also, the beginning of the story is rather slow, mostly because I'm trying to develop the characters. If it's to slow...you see that little review box down there...;) And as you can see, I'm deviating from the original Thieves Guild plot of going to a dude and ruffing them up. I've read a lot of stories that use this same formula and I want my story to be different. I always wondered why the Thieves Guild never paid attention to Mjoll since she outright states her hate of Thieves Guild so I'm addressing that.**

**And as always, thanks for reading through my rant!**

_Hinode~Dawn_


	5. Taking Care of Buisness

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil! I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breath... I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing! I fight... because I must._"

―Ulfric Stormcloak

* * *

**Chapter Four: Taking Care of Buisness**

The Throat of the World stood menacingly, a tight wind whipping around the two Nords as if nature itself didn't want them to continue their climb. But Ulfric knew better.

It took them the entire day to scale the tallest mountain of Tamriel by the cracked 7,000 steps to the top. Ulfric knew there were more steps to climb but it wasn't common knowledge to the pilgrims below nor to his guard. He spat onto the frozen snow whether from poor deference or fatigue he wasn't sure. The soldier behind him wheezed out a heavy breath and knew that his age was starting to catch up to him. He wished he was twenty again.

Covering his face from the blizzard, Ulfric climbed the final steps to the top with Ralof in tow, grasping the handle of the grey door. Shoving it open, meeting warm air, he led them inside with a heavy heart. He wasn't excited to meet the Greybeards once again what with only Arngeir being the only one there with anything to say. He remembered his youth and his stubborn and arrogant pride of his power and he sometimes wondered if he could have become what they had wanted him to be. But up here, up here on this cold mountain, he was chained. Down below was where he was free.

His footsteps echoed on the cold stone floor as he gazed upon the Throat of the World. Not much had changed, as he expected, since his last visit over thirty years ago. The Greybeards were a timeless bunch; it was as if they had their own plane of Oblivion up here without anybody noticing. They definitely acted like Daedric Princes.

Ralof held his breath at the sight, he had gone on pilgrimages to the mountain before with his father but he never set his eyes inside of the place before. It was colder then he had expected it to be more…lonely then he thought it would be. He had expected the Greybeards to be practicing their Thu'um or something but instead he found them to be meditating and somber on the icy ground. It was as if joy had left the room for good. He knew the Greybeards to be a serious bunch but he hadn't expected _this_. A dull existence – no life. And at that, Ralof frowned.

The Greybeards around them never stirred at Ulfric's presence and they continued to meditate near the edges of the circle patterned on the floor. The Jarl huffed. They knew he was coming else they all wouldn't be so close to the entrance, waiting. What arrogance.

Ulfric patiently waited for the Greybeards to look up at him but no one stirred. Each and every one of them was a statue waiting to be tipped over and at this Ulfric steamed with anger. Had they not heard his entrance? They knew he was coming so why not look up? He had returned after so long because the stupid dragon, _Alduin_, was returning. Along with the Dragonborn.

He had to know. Was he the Dragonborn? Did he fulfill the prophecy? He knew he was trying to save Skyrim, trying to save Skyrim from the godsforsaken _Empire_. And by Talos's will, he hoped to rid them of this dragon as well.

Almost as if they were reading his thoughts, one Greybeard of younger features opened his eyes to look up at the Jarl.

"Why are you here, Ulfric?" he asked. Ralof paused to look into the old man's bright eyes that seemed to hold knowledge no normal mortal would be able to hold. The Greybeard took the time to stare back at him however Ralof looked away. He didn't want to get the old man's attention on him when this was Ulfric's business.

Ulfric steadied himself before giving the Greybeard his answer.

"I saw him, Arngeir. Alduin." He paused to look amongst the others. "And you all just sat here doing nothing when it happened, is that right? When Alduin arose from the cold hard ground you did nothing."

"We cannot prevent the inevitable, Ulfric."

Ulfric clenched his fist tighter, glaring at the elderly men. "Who cares about some foolish prophecy that probably isn't true? I will not sit idly by and watch my people burn to death. Not by some mythological dragons and defiantly not by some apathetic old men who can't get off of their asses and _do_ something! Do you even _care_ about Skyrim's problems? Care about her people? _At all_?"

Arngeir rose from the ground and stared heavily in shame at the Jarl of Windhelm. He was always haughty of his own power, always too impulsive when trying to make a logical decision. When he took the young boy to teach him the ways of the voice he knew a day like this would come. _We should have left him be, we never should have listened to him_. Ulfric knew too much, was dangerous. And it was their fault.

"Why are you here, Ulfric?" Arngeir repeated. He knew when the man wanted something.

Ulfric bowed his head slightly. He had expected them to come out already, tell him that he was Dovakiin. But none of them looked up to him, none of them wavered. He only gained Arngeir's attention, the only one he didn't want to speak too. Maybe… _just_ maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn't the last Dragonborn after all.

But he couldn't be _wrong_! That aching feeling he always had when studying with the Greybeards like he had some sort of _purpose_ couldn't have all been a lie! Not a falsity?

He remembered learning his first and only shout, "Fus" or "Force," many years ago. He had been so proud of himself that day – he had only taken a few years to master it, strange amongst the Greybeards. He had thought himself special when he learned it so quickly – ha, maybe even Dovakiin himself. But was all of that a lie? Was his hype simply a fantasy?

He didn't know what to say so he only told them the truth.

"I want to know, Arngeir, if my stay here was for any purpose. Any purpose at all." He breathed in deeply. "I want to know if I'm Dragonborn."

The Throat of the World grew silent – more silent then it had already been. Ralof looked at up at Ulfric with surprise, eyes widening. Ralof knew Ulfric to be powerful, but to be Dragonborn? Maybe…it didn't seem too unlikely. After all, people compared Ulfric Stormcloak to Tiber Septim before the Third Era so maybe they weren't all far off on their guesses. His godly aurora could probably convince anyone that he was the Dragonborn. Especially when dragons have started terrorizing the countryside.

Ulfric awaited the Greybeard's answer but instead was met with a violent shake, then a thunder absent of lightning. He was flown halfway across the room along with Ralof who followed suite; a trail of blue followed them in a thin stream. Two Greybeards had stood as they shouted the ancient dragon language at the Jarl and his guard. It had been a whisper of a word, barely even a sentence in the dragon tongue and the force of it had ripped Ulfric off the ground.

Sitting up, Ralof looked over to see his Jarl groaning in pain – maybe from a cracked rib. He looked towards the Greybeards in terror before seeing their openly peaceful faces. They hadn't attacked them out of anger or hate but merely as a response. An answer to Ulfric's questions.

The Greybeards were known to never talk for if they uttered a single word its power could stop a man's heart instantly. Or so the legend went. But here they were, alive and healthy. Well, except for Ulfric's wounded ribcage. Ralof realized then that they wanted to prove something. Just what he wasn't sure.

Ulfric was. He stood up quickly, though his chest protested, and started spewing out random curses to the divines. The four Greybeards remained silent – as always – at the Jarl's anger. The two Greybeards sat back down breathlessly and proceeded to meditate again as if nothing had happened. Arngeir sighed, becoming his age almost, rubbing his forehead.

"You are not Dovahkiin, Ulfric. You would never be able to withstand our Thu'um much less a dragon's. Begone, before even my philosophy is tested beyond the breaking point. We are men of peace. You are not." Arngeir sat down once again and closed his grey eyes – in peace.

Ulfric remained standing however and grasped the air in front of him like a blade, never surrendering.

"Who then!" His shouting reverberated throughout the hold almost as if he had shouted "Fus" into the sky. "Who is he?" The Greybeard ignored the question, dipping his head lower. Ulfric's eyes sank. "Do we even have any hope, Arngeir? If what your 'philosophy' perscribes is true then can we ever have any peace?"

At that, the Greybeard opened his eyes to meet Ulfric's dark ones.

"He will come." The Greybeard looked away. "And when he does, his powerful Thu'um _will_ bring peace." The Greybeard closed his eyes once again. "We can only hope."

* * *

He heard a voice. From where he wasn't entirely sure.

An almost ringing sensation echoed through his ears like a bell that could never be quieted. He shook his head a few times but the voice's reverberation never stopped, almost as if he had gone mad. _Just lovely, I'm hearing voices now. What's next, hallucinations? _With the strange voice in his head finally quieting, he edged himself closer to the wall.

Alodie sat outside Aerin's house, bracing himself from beneath the window. A day had past of him gathering supplies, a new dark green cloak along with a new satchel to carry his newly found gold, fur gloves and boots to keep his hands and feet warm for the upcoming winter, and a few provisions thrown into his bag. He had to be prepared to make a break for it in case he somehow angered Maven but he knew he couldn't betray Mjoll, not after she had just helped him. His honor would never allow that, not for all of the septims in the world.

He sat forward and headed towards the door, knocking a few times, checking behind him. This wasn't part of the plan since he was supposed to plant the "murder weapon" in her house without her prior knowledge of it but Alodie couldn't – _wouldn't_ – do that to her. Whoever this Grelod the Kind was, he was pretty sure she had done something to upset Maven. The woman was supposedly found dead in her orphanage a week ago and the one who discovered the body was none other than Maven's servant like son, Hemming. The children had all vanished completely into thin air as if a monsoon had struck the area along with their other caretaker.

Alodie knew it to be the Dark Brotherhood's work. No doubt. And now they were exploiting a coincidence to their advantage by taking out Mjoll the Lioness – a figure of hope for the crime ridden city.

Alodie cursed as there was no responds to his knocks so he banged onto the door a bit louder. It wasn't as if he was the tax collector or something. Mjoll was most likely hiding from the presence at the door. He didn't blame her.

Mjoll was indeed ignoring him. Aerin, whose room was downstairs, came rushing into her room like a frightened little child as the knock grew even louder and more urgent.

_So, Maven's decided to take her little game up to my own front doorstep_? She smirked at the challenge, sitting up – ignoring Aerin's blubbering. She began walking towards the door but was stopped by Aerin's squeaky voice.

"You are not answering that door Mjoll. I want no trouble."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"They're not going to go away, Aerin. We might as well face this now rather than later." She continued towards the door until her battle axe was forcibly pulled back – a surprised Mjoll following its movement.

"_You are not answering that door Mjoll_!" he whispered harshly. She looked back at the Imperial with a defeated look. _He was just like a kid, wasn't he_? If he had been a Nord most would have called him a cowardly milk drinker – or maybe that's what her father would call him – but Mjoll found his kindheartedness to more than overcompensate for his "faintheartedness." To call Aerin a coward, however, would have been out of plain ignorance. Only a courageous person would be able to save her from those Dwemer ruins. Without a doubt.

The knocking ceased along with Aerin's fear. He breathed out deeply and fell to the ground, his legs wobbly from the death like sounding knock. He laughed once. He had almost fainted out of panic there.

Mjoll, however, remained suspicious and looked at her door in anticipation. Maybe freeing that Dark Elf had been too much of a risk when dealing with Maven Black-Briar. Now her goonies were after them. Before she could go check downstairs and see if the person at the door had left, she heard a loud thumping at the window.

"Arg!" Aerin yelped as Alodie appeared hanging from the edge of the window. Mjoll let out a surprised yelp as well, mimicking Aerin briefly before situating herself – glaring at the window. What did _he_ want? Before she could yell at him, he suddenly disappeared from view as he fell – hanging tightly to the bottom of the small window. Heading towards the window in a panic, she lifted the old window up and kept her hand there as if she was prepared to slam it back down on Alod's fingers.

Alodie had no choice but to make an ascent, knowing that no one looked up when searching for suspecting thieves. Or friends that weren't trying to be thieves - but hey, what could he do? She wasn't answering the damn door! Being too suspicious looking, he had to act. Climbing one of the pillars, he grasped onto the top of the window desperately trying to pull himself into the room. He had almost gotten up as well before the old window sill broke from beneath his feet, gravity pulling him closer to Nirn. He hadn't expected the window being so old so he hadn't held on as tightly as he had wanted to. He had to hurry and grab onto the wooden window sill that still remained and hung there like freshly caught fish.

And that was when Mjoll opened the window.

Staring up at the tired looking warrior, he smiled, laughing nervously. Maybe their reunion should have been a bit less… unusual looking. At this rate she would never believe him.

Holding tightly onto the window, Mjoll tightened her lips.

"You okay down there?" she asked but not loud enough to wake anyone. Aerin came warily to the window to see who it was before frowning, seeing the dark-haired Imperial's face.

"Perfect. Lovely. Fantastic." He paused before adding. "You know, the air is rather nice up here."

"I see. Is it now?"

Alodie made to nod but instead steadied his sweaty hands to grasp the window sill a bit tighter. This had to be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. He had hoped to have fluidly made his entrance surprising the two in the room but instead he was made out to be a fool. _Damnit_.

The two broke off their awkward window discussion briefly before Mjoll leaned forward. "What are you doing here?" she asked. Alodie grinned, though out of spite or pain, he wasn't sure.

"I'm here to profess my deep and undeniable love for you." Waiting for her response, he groaned. "Now pull me up damnit!" Catching his sarcastic tone, she rolled her eyes and grasped Alodie's glove, lifting the light Imperial through the window. Aerin made a few steps back as the dangerous man made his entrance, stretching after the stress his hands had went through. Mjoll glanced at the weak Imperial and shook her head rapidly. _Not now._

Alodie's face returned to business, his permanent frown Aerin was used to seeing reappearing on his face. For a second there, he had actually believed the man to be the compassionate and trusting sort, though apparently it was all an act.

Glaring at Alodie, Mjoll crossed his arms.

"Why the hell did you climb through my window?" she demanded. Alod glanced over towards the ex-warrior and shrugged.

"No one was answering the door," he replied. She sneered.

"There was no call for that."

Alod looked at the Nord curiously. "Yet the polite thing to do would have been to answer the door. You don't know how many stares I got after standing out there for so damn long."

"And you probably got many, many more after this," she said, waving to the opened window.

Aerin sighed loudly at the two's dispute and decided to sit back down onto the ground, holding his knees. He didn't want to deal with the Imperial. Alodie spelled danger and Aerin wasn't one to welcome it. Not when he could run away from it all.

Alod, knowing what his goal was, stepped back a bit, looking out of the window. Catching Alodie's serious gaze, Mjoll stood at attention and waited for the Imperial's words.

"Why are you here Alodie? What do you want?" she asked. Alodie paused by the window and looked up into the night sky. Masser was full, its brownish tint reflecting somberly while Secunda was a dark hole in the sky, a bright blue aurora borealis glowing in the night. He took something out of his large pouch and placed it on the window sill, his bright eyes glistening.

"They're going to accuse you of murder, Mjoll," he said simply. Aerin's eyes widened while Mjoll's remained steady.

"What are you talking about?"

Alodie turned to face the two and held the bloody knife horizontally to show them.

"They're going to accuse you of murder." They all grew deathly silent at the implications of the brittle looking knife Alodie held in front of them. Mjoll shuddered slightly as she realized that the Imperial had been sent to frame them of murder. Of who, she didn't care. But…Alod wouldn't do that, would he? They were strangers to him, sure, but they had helped him when he had collapsed from utter exhaustion. Unless he was a cold hearted bastard like those thieves, he wouldn't do such a thing. Would he?

Mjoll, hands shaking slightly, walked up to the Imperial and snatched the knife from him effortlessly. Alodie made no moves to stop her. The blade was rather curious looking, a house insignia engraved into the pommel whose symbol had worn away with time. The edges were brittle and yet sharp proven as she plucked her finger tenderly. Her warm blood dripped onto the ground as her face remained heavy.

She knew then that Alodie was telling the truth, no matter how much she didn't want to believe him. She knew this day would come. So, Maven won their little game they had been playing. And here she was in a corner, _checkmate_. Sneering, she threw the dagger aside and faced Alodie.

"Why? Why are you telling me this if you're going to join the Thieves 'Guild'? Isn't this your mission?" Mjoll knew the Imperial was going to join in their ranks. She knew so after that look she saw Brynjolf giving him out there in the market. He was on Maven's map and that was a dangerous place to be.

Alodie glanced around Mjoll's room, searching for an answer.

"My debts are my honor, Mjoll, even though it appears as if I have no such thing. I always blamed myself for putting you into an unnecessary amount of danger. Danger that probably hasn't come our way yet. I'm only here to warn you, Mjoll, to run. Get out of Riften before my problems become yours. It's only going to get worse."

Mjoll and Aerin's eyes twisted into confusion at this statement, Mjoll trying to piece together the Imperial's words. Danger? She knew that this Imperial was dangerous but were there people after him? From the Imperial City?

"I-I'm not going to run away, Alodie. If I have problems, if you have problems, then I'll face them all. That is the Nordic way I suppose – maybe my father's way– but it's my way as well."

Seeing Mjoll's determined face, Alod frowned. She had warned her of the danger and yet she didn't even want to escape? Mjoll would be thrown into Riften's dungeons no matter what he did. What she was doing was foolish. Scowling, his eyes hovered over to Aerin.

"And you would do that to Aerin? You might be able to protect yourself but to protect both yourself and him?" He remembered Brynjolf's words – how they would target Aerin if she would not cooperate. Aerin rose from the ground at this and glared Alodie a deadly look.

"This is all your fault. If you hadn't listened to damn Brynjolf, none of this would be happening. If you had just left things alone maybe you wouldn't be here now! Go back to your stupid guild and leave Mjoll alone. For gods sakes just go!"

Inside of him, those words seemed to hurt Alodie. His eyes suddenly turned glassy as he remembered the past few months and how true the small Imperial's words had been. Was he truly running away from the truth? Running away from his past? Maybe if he had left things alone – if his damn curiosity…!

But no, here he was making excuses again. Without looking back, Alodie stared out again into the night sky.

"Do what you will, run or don't. Just be prepared for the consequences."

"What are you doin—" Before she could finished he dropped from the window into the night time air. Mjoll rushed to the window in a panic, reaching to see if the Imperial was alright. She saw the Imperial brace himself like a cat and landed lightly on his feet as if a drop from a second story window hadn't affected him at all. Motionless, Mjoll watched as the Imperial jogged into the bordering alley and disappear. The ex-warrior sighed; placing her elbows on the sill along with her chin placed on top her hands delecatly. Alodie certainly was a strange one – there was no doubt in her mind about that.

Alod made his way back towards the Thieves Guild before being stopped by a dark figure at the other end of the alley. The man looked to be about middle aged, his sly eyes slinking onto the young Imperial's form like a cat, never blinking, never smiling. His armor was similar to Brynjolf's and Vex's and his presence told Alodie that he was a part of the Thieves Guild. He seemed a bit older then Brynjolf and a bit rustier looking. He peered into the night as if he knew all of the answers yet wouldn't share any of them.

"You must be Alodie, Brynjolf's little pet," he taunted. Alod froze, his hands reaching under his robes to grasp his sword's hilt. The man noticed the action and laughed, drawing Alod out of his tense reverie. "You're an aggressive one aren't you? I'm not sure if the Guild would favor someone like you." The man paused to think. "Maybe…"

Alodie's eyebrows rose in question though he was sure the man before him wasn't able to see his expression.

"Who are you?" he asked a little late. The man stood up straight after leaning against the wooden wall and faced the dark-haired Imperial directly.

"My name is Mercer." Recognizing the name as the Guild Master's, Alod shrank back. Mercer noticed this and sneered. "I'm only giving you this one warning kid – I'm the only one who asks questions around here, not you. You follow all of the orders I give you unquestionably. If not, you might as well throw yourself into a ditch and save us all the trouble." Catching Mercer's hostile and paranoid tone, Alod took a step back, glancing behind his shoulder. Did anyone know that he had warned Mjoll? Did they know he had already betrayed them?

They couldn't have that many eyes though, he realized, so he relaxed taking his hand off of his blade. He still felt a bit…for lack of the word, _afraid_ of Mercer. His presence had a "you better not mess with me" feel to it and his eyes reminded him of a feral wolf's. Alodie remembered similar eyes back in Cyrodiil and he continued to shrink back, eyes fixed on the Guild Master. Mercer gave him an amused look.

"I'm not that dreadful looking, am I?" he joked. When Alodie didn't respond, Mercer shrugged. "Suit yourself." The mysterious man then went to leave, moving past Alodie with quick steps. "I only hope you don't disappoint." And at that, Alodie shuddered deeply even though he never appeared shaken.

* * *

General Tulius sighed deeply, his worn forehead tugging tightly across his face into a grimace. He knew his men wouldn't like it - he knew that he wouldn't like it - but to be quite honest, they had no choice.

Sitting atop his dark brown horse, he glared at one of the captains before him.

"No, soldier, the High Elves' tents remain together, with the group. I'll have enough of your whining and paranoid fantasies." He pulled his horse back slightly to ease his back and held tightly to the reins. "Unless you want to sleep up on that mountain too, captain?" The Nord looked at his General bewildered as he shook his head.

"Yes sir... but sir-"

"Enough. At the rate this is going I'll be surprised if half of the men don't start flocking towards Ulfric's lost cause. This is a war on one front - soldier - not two, no matter how much your blood lusts for one."

The soldier frowned slightly at this, ashamed, then saluted. Tulius nodded his head forward, issuing his silent command to his horse. He along with around a dozen of his men had escaped Helgen barely with their lives. A dragon had come to free Ulfric apparently. A dragon. Nothing seemed to kill the creature no matter how many arrows or fireballs were thrown at it so he ordered a swift and smart retreat. Only a fool would push an attack against an indestructible being. It was as if they had been fighting Mehrunes Dagon himself.

He found himself with only around a fifth of his men left from the fight along with the Thalmor embassy they had been traveling with. They had met the suspicious bunch as they were heading towards the Imperial city with new orders from the capital. Ulfric would be executed immediately. No trial and no sentencing. He wanted to protest the High Elves' orders at first but after the ambassador coldly glared into his direction, he knew he had no other choice. And along with them was that Imperial prisoner they insisted to join the caravan. He had asked Elenwen specifically who he was and _why_ but she would never give him a clear answer. Only that he had "crossed the border illegally." When was there a law against that? He didn't remember one.

As soon as he saw her entire group alive, he knew they had something to do with this. Whether it was related to the dragon or not, he wasn't sure.

They had been traveling for well over a week and had passed the now Stormcloak ridden Falkreath Hold into Whiterun territory. Although Whiterun was technically a neutral party, he would abuse his rights to pass through Balgruuf's hold no matter what.

All Tulius wanted to do was to get away from the south. He wasn't sure if there was only one dragon or many and he didn't want to find out.

As they rode up to Rorikstead, an Imperial soldier with a deep frown ran up to the caravan, the moons reflecting off his iron helmet. His distressed face signaled to Tulius that something went wrong in their negations with the local population. He was right in assuming such for the soldier reported that they wouldn't allow Imperial soldiers any room or board at there inns afraid of how they would look to approaching Stormcloak troops reporting to be closing in. The old general sighed again, shaking his head.

Unexpectedly, Elenwen came riding up to him with a displeased face.

"What is the hold up? Do you even know how long we have been on the road General Tulius? A week too long."

He glanced the mer over in surprise and shrugged. The ambassador hadn't even uttered a word to him after the attack at Helgen and he wondered why she bothered to now. He was about to utter a rude retort before remembering the words she muttered to him before Ulric's "execution."

_"We are here to make sure events happen the way we want them to, you understand. Don't get in our way._" Apparently, the Thalmor were a very impatient people. Especially Elenwen.

So, holding his tongue, he responded flatly.

"I'm trying my best, ambassador, but we can't just force our way into a town that doesn't want us there. How would Balgruuf respond to that?"

The Altmer responded negativity, her face filled with disappointment.

"I don't care where we set our camps, General, I'm only wondering why we just don't keep going. The night never stops anyone."

Looking the high-born mer over as if she was crazy, General Tulius narrowed his eyes.

"Your troops might be able to walk the extra mile but I have too many injured men to take care of. You can't just expect them to just 'keep going,' do you?"

Elenwen sniffed the night air bitterly.

"Then maybe we should just go on without you. You are slowing us down General and we have too much business to be tending to in Solitude if we are to figure out where this dragon came from. You do understand, yes?"

_No_, Tulius had wanted to say. But he knew better. Instead he lowered his head, his eyes searching the few soldiers he had behind him. Maybe they could go on for another night but to reach Solitude? Maybe.

Sighing in defeat, he lifted his hand up and waved a signal to keep marching ignoring the small groans from the soldiers. They'll live.

Before Elenwen rode of as the champion of their little dispute, he stopped him.

"Now, wait just a second Ambassador." Annoyed, the high-born Altmer glared at the Imperial before her. She was becoming rather impaitent at the little man's excuses.

"What do you want _now_, General?" she asked almost in a condescending tone. The General paused, thinking over his question again, making sure it didn't sound too intrusive.

"Who exactly ordered our stop in Helgen? Emperor Titus Mede? Why didn't we continue our march to the Imperial City? If we hadn't Ulfric would still have been within our grasp - the war ove-."

"I thought where our orders came from was obvious, General. If that should be a cause for suspicion, then maybe you shouldn't have asked." She began riding away again into the night but the Imperial commander edged his horse forward beside the Altmer.

"Did you not trust the way we handled Ulfric?"

Elenwen sighed heavily, ignoring the General. Tulius grew short-tempered. "What about that prisoner? Who was he and what did he really do, Ambassador?" At that, the Almer stopped her tan horse to glare at the Imperial. She thought briefly about telling the General about the little pest they were given but decided instead to give him only half of the story.

"He was from the Imperial City - Penitus Oculatus. He was given to us by Commander Maro personally, a gift I assume. Traitor by all accounts." She paused, sorting through the details. "I have no idea what he did nor do I care. Now, can we move on General?" remaining silent, he allowed the High Elf to move on, her troops moving past him on both horses and foot. His own troops followed behind, glancing curiously at their commander.

Shrugging, he followed his own troops - ready to lead them into the late misty night.

* * *

**Yes! Summer! I'm officially a senior! Woot! :D I hope you enjoyed this chapter and as always - read and review!**

_Hinode~Dawn_


	6. Bad Luck

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

"_It's one thing to say you've got the skills to be a thief. It's another to actually use them_."

―Vekel the Man

* * *

**Chapter Five: Bad Luck**

Alodie sighed as he drank his mead deeply as the night passed into the unknown. He felt his world suddenly growing fuzzy and unfamiliar – maybe having a bit too many after his run in with Mercer. He could probably head back down there and prove to those thieves that he was to be "_trusted_" but he wasn't even sure as to what Mjoll would do. He shrugged but the action felt heavy and very, _very _late. He wasn't one to drink – he hated feeling like he had missed something – but this night felt like he needed a few. Talen-Jei certainly felt generous. Especially that cliff racer! _What was a cliff racer anyway_?

Before he even knew it, he felt like he was having a "discussion" of sorts with an unwelcoming Nord. He forgot what his name was but apparently he had a very distinct hate of Imperials_. For whatever reason_. He faintly remembered him being in mourning or something. His daughter dead. Stormcloaks.

_Dragons_.

He laughed heartily, slapping the inhospitable man on the back.

"Well, I was here—there you know. H-Helken? Heljen?" He struggled to remember the name. "Helgen! That one." He laughed again like he hadn't done so in a quite a while. The old man frowned at the light-weight Imperial. Oh, wouldn't Brynjolf's stupid laugh be much-appreciated right now! This Nord had no sense of humor (not that Brynjolf had any).

Hearing some sort of question come out of the mourning Nord's mouth – what did he say? "Why were you there?" Alodie shrugged again and downed the rest of his drink.

"Don't know, really. That dragon was huge though. It talked too, said 'blah' words. Couldn't understand them." He felt himself trying to change the subject of the conversation as he heard the Nord ask him another question. Was it "Are you an Imperial soldier?" or "Were you an Imperial soldier?" He wasn't really paying attention so he just simply nodded his head.

"Yeah, yeah. An Imperial _soldier_…"

"_"_I lost my own daughter to the Imperial dogs, and by _Talos_ I'll not lose anyone else!"

He suddenly felt a fist smash into his face then a loud cry as many of the bar patrons hooted for a fight that would never really happen. He felt his vision finally blur as the old Nord soldier yelled curses at him – his son trying to hold him back. He remembered returning the punches too though he thought he was mostly punching thin air never really connecting. The Nord was way too strong to fend off though so he finally passed out, his face bruised with the punches from the Nord. What did he say? He wasn't exactly sure.

As he woke up though, he felt a stinging slap along with a few silent insults. His vision blurred as he looked up from the ground to a smug looking Imperial dressed in wizardly robes. He kneeled before him almost as if he was praying but Alodie knew it was probably for another reason. Probably a bad one.

Sitting up quickly, Alod frowned, rubbing his head. The sorcerer slapped him again causing him to sit up quickly, though maybe a bit too quickly. He grunted as he felt the numerous bruises on his head, rubbing his face.

He realized his position on one of the wooden benches in the Bee and Barb inn and wondered how he had gotten into such a terrible state. The magicka user only stared at him as if he was some sort of experiment. The man stood as Alodie sat up brushing himself off. Before he could say anything to the quirky man before him, the wizard spoke up.

"Answer me in the next five seconds or I might just blow your head off with a burst of fire," he said rapidly. Alodie, confused more than worried, rubbed his head wondering if it was simply his headache playing tricks on him. "Who are you and do you have money?"

Blinking twice, Alod looked at the wizard unbelievably.

"Why would you care?" he asked. Why did people always insist in sticking their noses into his purse in this town? This beggar of a wizard was probably trying to con him off a miracle cure or something. Shaking his head, he held his forehead wishing the strange Imperial away. "Just… forget it. I need to get out of here."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Now, now my good friend – just wait here while I get you a drink," the man said placing an impatient hand on his shoulder. Brushing him off, Alodie stood though a bit shaken.

"I think I had enough to drink last night, thank you."

The Imperial snorted in his face.

"When is there a time _not_ to have a drink my friend?" He didn't remember ever making friends with the man but he couldn't just say that to his face.

Though he was reluctant, he followed the strange man to the bar. Keerava, the Argonian inn keeper, frowned at him as he stepped forward. He wondered what exactly he did last night – he wasn't one to remember things after drinking too much. He could end up halfway across Tamriel and still not know how exactly he ended up there. The man already had bought two pints and was waving an outstretched hand at him.

"Thirty septims please. I'm not buying a complete stranger their drink_," _he said._ I thought that was _exactly_ what you were doing_, Alod thought sneeringly. Sitting not too delicately on the stool, he glared at the wizard with openly vicious eyes. He wasn't one to trust people like alchemists or magic users. _Especially_ magic users.

The man didn't seem to notice his hostile expression though. "So, tell me, how has the world treated an adventurer like you? Been a bit too rough for a little guy I take it? Probably need an extra hand, so maybe—"

"I'm not looking for mercenaries to do the work for me. Sorry." Frowning, the Imperial took a sip of his beverage while Alodie's remained cold.

"A bit of an attitude you've got there huh? I mean, why settle for just stabbing your foes when you can roast them alive in a gout of arcane fire? Come on my good man, have some sense." He did have the sense not to listen to the snarky man go on about himself like he was the epiphany of devastation. He had to head back to the guild and report his mission "successful" (though not really) anyway. Didn't want Mercer to yell at him on his first day. Standing, ready for action, Alodie turned to leave. He didn't have time for this.

Or well, he would have left if he hadn't been frozen in place by a heavy spell that had zoomed onto his feet. Cursing, he turned his head to see the smiling wizard who dusted his hands as if casting such a spell in public had been no big deal. "Rather jumpy aren't you?" Stretching out a bit he walked closer to the frozen Alodie.

"Let me go, now!"

"Come on why won't you just hire me? I'll lower my price to 200 septims just so that I can get out of this dump. All of these Nords are too afraid of a rather good thing," the man said. Alodie laughed softly.

"Ha, well… I can see why," he said. The wizard laughed out loud while Alodie's pathetic glance turned into something more like confusion. What was with this man? Didn't he have any sort of common respect?

Well, no one in Riften had any common respect so….

"You are rather funny, hilarious!" the mage said mockingly.

Alodie sighed deeply and turned away from the crazed mage. At least there weren't any people here at this time of day – most of the workers stayed at Helga's then the inn. Otherwise, he would have been embarrassed to death by this persistent mage.

"It's not like I'm leaving here anytime soon so…"

"But when you leave— 'cause everyone leaves sooner or later – can I? I've seen it happen too many times, 'Maven's rich, maybe I'll get rich too!' _Wrong_. All of them wrong."

Alod snorted out loud at that sentiment. "Let me guess, you thought that way as well?"

The mage's mouth twitched as the Imperial frozen before him hit the mark of his situation perfectly. Alodie, realizing the mage had his guard down, moved his feet as the spell wore off and headed towards the door in a sprint without looking back. He hadn't noticed however that the bruises from last night had completely disappeared.

"So you think you can make it on your own huh? We'll just see about that_."_

Did that mage heal him? Shrugging it off, he began making his way to the Ragged Flagon once again.

* * *

"So lad, you did your part I see." Brynjolf said, sniffing the air fondly. The Ragged Flagon was empty – it's patrons all committing their violent acts of theft and even quite possibly murder. The only people around were Brynjolf and Vekel who was shining a glass mostly out of boredom. Alodie sighed deeply as his "betrayal" to the Guild had completely failed. Mjoll was imprisoned, Brynjolf declared (he seemed rather happy about that as well). Alod shook his head under the vast amount of pressure that formed under his head after the news. The idiot, why did she do that? Now he had to go waste his time busting her out.

Brynjolf gazed suspiciously at the Imperial, finishing his Skeever roast in one chomp. He turned around to get a better look at him – trying to see if the lad's eyes betrayed his actions. Surprisingly, he found no guilt or sadness.

He narrowed his eyes. "Does this surprise you lad? You're one of us now." Alodie grimaced.

"I never choose this, Brynjolf," he said.

"Stop making excuses before the truth even starts to settle in." The red headed Nord sighed, getting up. "Now, follow me before you start denying the floorboards beneath our feet." Mercer was going to kill him. He hadn't expected the lad to actually go through with it. Maybe he was right about the Imperial after all – made of stronger stuff.

Alodie regretted getting himself snarled within Thieves Guild "business." He should have made his way out of town ages ago. But something pulled him to keep walking – to join this band of thieves instead of denying them. He couldn't hate something he hadn't even tried yet.

With these thoughts in mind, he followed the Nord cautiously – Vekel waving a small goodbye to them. He knew it would be better to go forward then going back – the forward path was determined. The dark path behind him wasn't. Before he could even decide, Brynjolf yawned tiredly, pulling at something near the wall. He noticed that they had made their way near the cellar and the Warrens – Brynjolf shot his arm out at him as he went to peek inside, grabbing his shoulder.

"I wouldn't go in there. Bad, _bad_ things make their home in the Warrens."

Alodie gave him a blank stare, shrugging his hand off. "What are you talking about?"

Byrnjolf shook his head signaling the end of the discussion. "Let's just say that Sheogorath makes his eggs and bacon down there and spreads it on his burnt up bloody toast, 'kay lad?" Alod thought about his statement only briefly before the cabinet beside them suddenly burst open. "Gods Rune can't you figure out a damn lever." Before Alod could ask the Nord what he meant, Brynjolf took a step inside the now open cabinet. The Imperial shrugged his way over discarded ale bottles and closed the door behind them softly_. What a predictable secret passage_, he thought. He wondered why the Thieves Guild hadn't been flushed out by the Jarl by now if their hideout was this easy to find. Brynjolf grabbed a hanging torch and lit their way down an even grimier hallway.

They both remained silent as they heard the echoing of merriment down the way. Although Alod couldn't see the Nord's expression, he knew that he would be smirking along with the loud drunkards.

The hall opened up into another spherical room about the same size as the Ragged Flagon. Four bridges encircled the center plinth as rushing sewage water flowed beneath them in waterfalls. A few louts were laughing beside a table filled with meats and produce to their right, most of them never noticed the two as they walked into the massive room of filth.

Beds lined the walls messily. Most had a few knick knacks and personal items ranging from innocent books to deadly knives. In the far end of the room, a golden door shined menacingly as if daring anyone to open it. And beside it was Mercer, his mind troubled as he glared at the two golden knobs.

They both stepped onto the center platform, Brynjolf a bit more confidently then Alodie. A few thieves gazed at the two though Alod knew that it was him that all of their eyes were fixed onto. One of them smiled as if relieved and made his way over completely ignoring Alodie. The tall dark haired Nord laughed heartily as he spotted Brynjolf along with the three that had been sitting beside him.

"Brynjolf! Come join us, you've been out way too much the past week eh?" The Nord stopped when he noticed Alodie beside him. The Nord, puzzled, scratched his chin. "Huh…? I thought this guy…"

"He's joining the Guild, Viper. I see you have taken advantage of the Black-Briar mead Vekel shipped down here," Brynjolf replied quickly. Alodie looked over the Nord's shoulder to observe the three other men one of them a Bosmer. They all gave him curious looks that he returned with his fierce eyes. He wouldn't trust any of these thieves no matter how idiotic they appeared to be.

Brynjolf, sensing the Imperial's mistrust, suddenly grabbed his shoulders and pushed him forward. "Go ahead, say hello to your Guild mates lad."

Glaring at the Nord, Alodie turned around to face the thieves with distaste. A barbaric looking Nord behind Viper growled deeply while the Bosmer gave him a surprised stare. An Imperial behind the barbarian who was sitting gave him a quiet look but didn't really seem interested. A few others behind them passed by the pair and went about their training and daily lives.

Viper sniffed. "I don't think Mercer will like this, Brynjolf. You know what happened—"

"Yes, but don't you see anything in him that's a bit… familiar?" Brynjolf interrupted. Alodie glanced over to where Mercer was staring at the golden door never flinching. He found the Guild leader's motionless form a bit unsettling and wondered himself what was on the other side.

Brynjolf, noticing the Imperial's distraction, shoved him once again. Viper's stolid eyes never left Alod trying to see what Brynjolf was talking about before they widened in realization. Alodie's eyes turned from suspicion to curiosity as the Nord in front of him figured out what Brynjolf had meant.

"I-I see… Well, does Mercer know?" he asked. Alodie decided to cut in then.

"He decided to pay me a visit last night if that's what you mean," he said. A rather frightening visit as well, Alodie thought bitterly. Viper shook his head as if he had just seen a ghost. Brynjolf smirked.

"You see, he's destined to join us," he said.

"I never heard anything about a 'destiny,' Brynjolf. Mercer hasn't tested him yet," Viper said. Alodie scoffed at this. Another test? How elite was this group anyway? If he had to cut his own eye out and sign a paper in his own blood he might as well leave. But it was a bit too late to bump out now, wasn't it?

As if hearing his own name, Mercer looked over to the group and once he spotted Brynjolf he marched over with large, heavy strides. When he saw the newcomer though, he paused. Brynjolf, noticing his leader's hesitation, turned around to face him.

Alodie had met the prestigious Thieves Guild leader just last night but he hadn't really seen his features. The Breton had a grimace forever plastered on his face and wore dark leather armor that hide multiple knives and devices. On his side was a metallic sword of a strange material that Alodie recognized to be of Dwarven design – the hilt glistening with a deep red ruby, the same color as blood. For some reason, the enigmatic Guild master before him made him stir. He almost felt the darkness of the dragon before him in the form of Mercer Frey.

Mercer himself was surprised to see the Imperial and glared at him even though the expression seemed to have been on his face all the time.

"Have you seen Vex, Brynjolf?" He asked. Behind him he could hear Viper turn back to whatever he was doing before they had entered. Probably drinking.

Brynjolf, completely ignoring Mercer's obvious negativity, smiled brightly – unaware of there being anything amiss.

"She still hasn't come back yet? I thought—"

There was a sudden slam from the hall behind them. Alodie turned sharply as a loud commotion came from the group of louts. The Imperial, Vex, had fallen through a sewer hole near the back of the "dining" hall. Brynjolf rushed quickly to the accident as Alod tagged closely behind with Mercer staying behind like a dark shadow.

The one named Viper already grasped Vex tightly. Alodie noticed an arrow buried deeply into her thigh, her eyes swimming with pain. Brynjolf bent over her in distress, he had never seen the Nord so worried and petrified.

"Little Vex, what happened? How—?"

"Those…bastards…" she muttered. She lifted her head slightly trying to keep herself awake. "They had me surrounded. Aringoth the little fetcher…" She winced as she moved her leg but Brynjolf moved his hand to steady her. Everyone surrounding them kept their distance as she spoke. "How should I have known –?"

"Just lay down Vex. Keep still," Brynjolf muttered. Viper seemed to hold her just a bit tighter as if to reinforce that statement. Vex sighed deeply.

"I'm not a delicate little flower Brynjolf, I'm fine," She protested though she didn't seem that convincing. As another wave of pain shot through her, Alodie came alongside her and held her leg tightly. Vex, surprised, shook forcefully— eyes widening. "What in Mara's name are you doing?" She yelped.

"Helping you," he muttered. Brynjolf looked over his shoulder, smiling. He knew the lad would come around eventually.

"Don't touch me!" She protested wildly. Alodie ignored her as he touched the arrow lightly causing Vex to jerk. Viper held her still.

"You better know what you're doing, Imperial," Viper threatened. Brynjolf rolled his eyes at the dark haired Nord and glanced towards the concentrating Imperial. Alodie knew that Vex would be able to survive this; most of the arrow had dug into her leather pouch. Pulling the arrow out though would be a struggle—at least for Vex it would be. Grasping the arrow near the tip he glanced at Vex.

"On the count of three, I'll pull it out," he said determined. Vex was shaking her head in horror.

"Brynjolf, get this asshole off of me!"

The Nord shrugged. She seemed okay; she had enough energy to scream her head off.

"One," Alod began. Vex's face turned a bright red.

"Fetcher!" she yelled at Brynjolf.

"Two."

"I'm going to rip you' re manhood off when—"

Alodie pulled the barbed arrow out from her leg in the middle of her insult, holding her leg steady. She grunted loudly as a wave of extra pain flowed through her leg. She went to grab it but was held down by Viper who had to endure her loud screaming that shattered his ears.

Alodie rushed immediately to the wound, placing his hand delicately over it. A white light glowed from beneath his hand as he tried to stop the wound from bleeding out. _Concentrate Alodie_, he told himself, _I've done this before_. Brynjolf chuckled softly as Alodie began repairing Vex's injured leg. This Imperial was just full of surprises.

Before Alodie could feel the wave of nausea that hinted at low magicka, the blood stopped clotting on Vex's trousers and he felt the Imperial settled down at the pain subsided. Her grimace, however, remained.

Removing his hand, Vex sat up with a start with Viper releasing her. Although the blood had stopped flowing, she still felt a slight tug in her leg along with numbness where the arrow had lodged itself into her skin. Ignoring the protests of many, she sat down on a chair snatching the nearest mead bottle and downed it as fast.

Brynjolf sat down beside her as if to comfort her though she ignored the Nord's presence entirely as if it had been he who had shot an arrow in her leg. Alodie, with Vex's blood still on his hands, stood as he glanced around to the others. They remained silent at his "rescue" of Vex – some still chuckling at Vex's embarrassed face. Viper felt a bit warmer to him then he had earlier as if he had some reason to thank him. He doubted that he had done anything to help the Imperial – merely healing her pain and not her life.

Mercer continued to watch with an unbroken stare. Something went terribly wrong at Goldenglow.

The Guild Master walked up to the two sitting figures and crossed his arms, studying Vex. She lowered her head significantly.

"I'm sorry Mercer but the bastard hired mercs. I swear there were at least fifty of them inside that estate alone. I went through the sewers and everything and had figured where the safe would be but …they overwhelmed me. I don't even know how—"

"You are released from the Goldenglow Estate mission, Vex," Mercer said. Vex, enraged, threw her empty mead bottled to the ground.

"Released from a mission? I've never done that before Mercer and I'll never—!"

"You've heard you're orders, Vex," Mercer said with a commanding yet dark voice that left no room for arguments. Vex, although she was prepared to protest further, backed down grabbing another mead bottle. Brynjolf for once agreed with Mercer in his decision. They really must be in a bout of bad luck if _Vex_ failed a mission. Vex never failed missions and never a mission this simple and…well _was_ simple. Fifty mercenaries really changed the whole gravity of things.

Alodie, confused as to what this Goldenglow Estate was walked over to the discussion.

"What happened?" Alodie asked, actually a bit worried. He knew being a thief was dangerous but fifty mercenaries' worth of danger? He really didn't know what he had gotten himself into.

Mercer glanced at the Imperial and thought suddenly of the perfect idea. Maybe, just maybe, it could work. Brynjolf, aware of Mercer's change in attitude braced himself. He wasn't going to… was he? He was just a kid!

Walking towards Alodie, Mercer glanced over the Imperial's bright eyes with determination.

"Instead I want this one to do it," he said. Alodie, confused, looked over Brynjolf. Were first missions supposed to be this dangerous? Mercer, seeing his confused face pointed to him.

"I want you to go into Goldenglow Estate and get the deed from Aringoth's safe. Getting in should be easy. Getting out now…that's become very difficult." The people surrounding him remained silent at the statement though many people were protesting the very idea of the young man doing a job that even Vex couldn't do. Mercer ignored them. "One of our clients wants to send a message to Goldenglow to stop sending their honey to their competitors. We want to send a message but we don't want to put them out of business."

Brynjolf began to protest. "Mercer, are you sure this is a good idea? Sending the lad—"

"Well, now we'll see if the boy really is a 'prodigy' Brynjolf," Mercer scoffed. Alodie wasn't really sure about this either. He's done crazy things in the past, sure. He's done the impossible before, sure. But he felt as if this Mercer _wanted_ to send him to an early death.

Vex didn't take the news of an initiate taking her job too fondly. Alod realized this new "job" gave him more enemies then friends as he had expected. Mumbling something incoherently, Vex limped off the chair and away into the western rooms. Viper, who was just as angry, followed Vex eyeing the "prodigy" up.

Brynjolf was a bit more reasonable then everyone else and took Mercer's decision as it was and decided he would do his best to help the lad. He feared though it would bring about his end.

Alodie, finding himself in a tight corner, shrugged.

"I can't say no, can I?" he stated. Mercer nodded once and turned as if finished to his desk. And with that, the thieves went back to business.

* * *

Brynjolf sighed as he stared at the Talos shrine, worried for their new recruit. When Mercer told him to go after Goldenglow, he thought he had wax underneath his ears. But apparently not. Even Vex could barely escape the place so how could he? Alodie's arrogance had to be tempered before he did any crazy missions. And he was actually starting to care for the lad - maybe because he looked so much like Gallus. But of course, that was probably just an excuse.

Before he could give an offering to the shrine, he felt a presence behind him in the form of Mercer. The Breton gave him a low snide and walked up beside him. In the distance, Brynjolf heard the coffin close the entrance to the hideout. Mercer groaned.

"How many times have I told you Brynjolf - no more recruits. We've had enough trouble as it is already." Brynjolf smiled lightly. He always liked breaking the rules.

"See something special in him don't yah? Remind you of someone?"

"Gallus is dead. I don't want to talk about it."

"I understand old friend but... don't you find it strange? Strange that an almost spitting image of Gallus comes walking through Riften like a ghost?" At this, Mercer narrowed his eyes. Brynjolf was always one to cling to the past - he never forgave Karliah for what she did to Gallus. But seeing ghosts? He had to admit, the Imperial did look exactly like his old friend. Maybe a bit... dangerously so...

What did Gallus do? Wasn't he in love with Karliah? He knew the man didn't have any relatives when he was alive… so what, was Alodie simply an "accident?" A mistake?

Brynjolf, reading Mercer's expression, sighed even deeper.

"I just don't know my friend. Maybe we'll figure this out and maybe we'll never know. I just don't want you-"

"My decision still stands." He said. Brynjolf sighed and bent down beside the shrine touching the offering statue lightly. A purple wave of magicka waved through his hand as he felt Talos bless him though it felt weak and staggered. Mercer shook his head at the Nord and began to head out into the dark streets of Riften.

"We will find Karliah, Mercer. Soon. And when we do, she will pay for what she did to Gallus," he heard Brynjolf mutter to him as he left.

And Mercer smirked at the oblivious statement.

* * *

The dark alleys of Whiterun bustled unusually; many people stepped hesitantly over the many brooks that guided under the mountain's lowest tier. The town was over flooded with people after the Jarl's declaration of "safety" and "precaution." Most believed "paranoia." A cloaked figure dropped suddenly from above into a dark alley, glancing over their shoulder in order to search for anyone who saw such an act. Seeing no one, the figure made its way past War Maidens the cheapest blacksmith in town towards the inn – the early morning still breaking through the cold clouds. She had trouble getting past the gates – no one could enter without a permit because of the unreasonable Jarl. This dragon business really did interrupt her normal business – she only hoped that one never really appeared.

Sighing, she entered the inn – the warm smell of burning wood met her nose along with the deep fragrance of left out meat. She took two steps inside before she was interrupted by a voice calling out to her.

"Took you long enough – I thought you were dead." Before her was a business man – a middle aged Nord dressed to impress. He gave her a crooked smile as if inviting her but she kept her cloak on tightly to hide her appearance. The plan couldn't fail her, not when she has gotten so far.

Ignoring his previous statement, she dropped the package she had gaining the attention of the inn keeper. She ignored her.

"Goldenglow will send in your shipments as soon as naturally possible. I've made sure of it," she said with her deep accent. The Nord practically glowed at this as he attacked the package with a hunger.

"And the honey won't go to Black-Briar?"

"None of it."

"And are you sure Maven won't retaliate?"

At this, she sat down heavily. She knew Honningbrew would fail – it was in her plan for it to fail. She only wanted to send out her message without gaining Maven's attention. Riften would be her death – no she had to get Mercer and Mercer alone. Unless the coward didn't want to end it himself.

She had hated running – go to one town to strike rich only to find a Dark Brotherhood assassin waiting for her. Jumping from one city to the next – even paying a visit to Morrowind – never slowed her down. And now, she was tired. Very, _very_ tired of running. Mercer would pay for what he did to her – to Gallus.

She stared at the Nord with her bright blue eyes that were supposed to be red, daring him to refuse such a grand – yet dangerous – offer.

"What happens to you from here on afterward is your own business," she said. She got up suddenly, grabbing a bag of gold that the man had set out for her. "I wish you luck." She moved away just as a Redguard servant was about to ask them what they wanted. The Nord remained staring at the cloaked figure as she vanished into the shadows.

* * *

Becoming a member of the Thieves Guild had never been in Alodie's plans but it seemed as if he had joined either unconsciously or unwillingly. The Guild spared him a dusty bed near the entrance, skeever ridden holes and crap layered upon it like a cake. He groaned deeply as he prepared to clean the mess meanwhile going through the previous owner's possessions. A book about shadowmarks suddenly made itself known as he sorted through a pile of discarded clothes.

Apparently, the Guild had a system of "secret codes" telling a thief whether a house was safe or… not so safe. As he studied the book, he noticed someone hovering over him like a dark shadow. Looking up, he saw Vex, her face plastered with anger over the last hour's events. He couldn't blame her.

"So, you decide to show up and save the day huh? Is that it? Now you're going to get yourself killed at Goldenglow," she said. He raised his eyebrows.

"If it makes you feel better, I never accepted the job." At this, Vex laughed loudly and shook her head in disbelief.

"No one rejects a job down here. Especially my jobs." Alodie went back to reading the book before him, ignoring the distressed Imperial. Vex sniffed loudly at the young Imperial's defiance. "Trust me – you want to be on my good side boy. Otherwise your jobs might get…unsettling."

"I never asked you to be nice to me," Alodie replied. Vex gave him a bewildered look. The only people who ignored her threats were Brynjolf and Delvin – Delvin for the wrong reasons. She joined the Guild many years ago when she was young – about as young as this Imperial before her – and maybe she was losing her touch. Twenty years would do that to a thief. So, instead of retorting back at the young Imperial like she had planned to do, she turned around and let the Imperial be.

Alodie sighed deeply at the interruption and continued to study the marks in the book.

After a restless sleep, he awoke the next day and decided to take a small stroll around the Guild. After all, this was his home – for now at least. He noticed that the place had suddenly emptied – most had gone to the Ragged Flagon to either get a drink or a job. He really didn't want to talk to his fellow thieves… he didn't need to make "friends" with these people. He would leave eventually anyway.

And he still had to strike Goldenglow. He wasn't sure he could even do something as impossible as go inside a fifty mercenary strong house and retrieve something from within a safe then destroy some – oh, but not _all_ – of the hives. He only had to guess who this "client" had to be. Maven Black-Briar.

As he wandered the empty sewage halls of the Thieves Guild, he heard the _thunk_ of an arrow hitting hay. He continued down the hall to see the Bosmer from earlier concentrating on his bow. The Wood Elf released the string and another arrow shot up towards the dummy on the upper niche. He was surprised to see the arrow hit directly in the bag-head. The Bosmer, unaware of another person watching him, jumped at the sudden appearance of Alodie.

"Oh…why hello there. Trying to spy on me are you?" The Bosmer lowered his bow as Alodie crossed his arms, trying to discern the Wood Elf as friend or foe. He was rather tall for his race and wore a simple smile that seemed inviting. He was innocent enough.

Sitting down, Alodie studied the Wood Elf with calm eyes trying to figure out any secrets the Elf could have. The Bosmer, seeing the young Imperial sit, returned to his longbow with a silent fondness. "My name is Niruin. A foreigner like you." He lifted an arrow from a table beside him and drew his bow. "You must be that newcomer, Alodie." He released the arrow and it flew into the dummy once again this time hitting its torso.

"You could say that," he responded. Niruin smiled.

"I think you'll grow to like our little Guild, friend. It defiantly gave me the chance to get away from the drool life of Valenwood courts." He looked over his shoulder. "Goldenglow is it? Good luck, you'll need it."

"Why should I do anything Mercer tells me to do?" Alodie asked. Niruin lowered his bow at this and gave the Imperial an inquisitive look.

"It won't be too difficult hopefully. The worse that could possible happen is that you end up injured – unless you're stupid. But the Guild never recruits stupid people."

"Thanks for the encouragement," Alodie said, rolling his eyes. Niruin laughed softly, grabbing another arrow.

"Have you ever used a bow before?" he asked. Alodie shook his head though he noticed Niruin couldn't see his face so he voiced his response. At this, Niruin laughed, turning around. "Then why don't you try, it might prove to be worthwhile."

Before he could protest, the Bosmer grabbed a training bow from an open closet and threw it at the Imperial. He waved for the young man to follow him as he headed towards the open room. Following silently, Alodie soon found himself standing before another dummy that was beside Mercer's desk – though for some reason the Breton had made himself scarce after his initiation. That worried him.

"So, to begin why don't you string the bow? Go on, it isn't hard."

He wondered if the Bosmer was a bit bored since teaching him something like this would never really amount to anything. He never liked archery – to take on an opponent from such a great distance away never interested him. Though, maybe the skill would be useful to him now that dragons have made themselves known – he certainly couldn't knife them out of the air.

So, taking the tough string, he looped the small knot around the top and pulled it gently. Niruin grinned in approval and handed him an arrow. "Make sure you don't leave your bow strung for too long else the string could wear out." Alodie nodded soundlessly at his new "teacher." He wondered why the Bosmer was so friendly to him; he never did anything to grant this sort of kindness. He was simply trying to survive.

Alod looked over towards the dummy and raised the arrow to the string, looking over to the Bosmer to see if he was doing it right. Niruin sighed, shaking his head. "Raise your arm a bit more. No, that's a little bit too much, a little lower. And don't keep your feet together—there is never any strength in doing that. Now."

After listening to Niruin's complaints, stretching his feet apart, left one in front of right, he drew the bow and released sending the arrow into the murky depths of the sewage water. Niruin sighed. "Again."

They continued doing this into the night, Niruin complaining about his form and the bow string creating marks upon his forearm. Sooner or later, his wrist become so sore they had to stop.

Niruin sighed, collapsing upon a chair by the dining table as if he had been the one trying to learn a new skill. Alodie took off his glove and massaged his red wrist. He could swear he grew a new set of muscles in his arm after that exercise. Niruin laughed lightly. "Not bad for your first time though I defiantly did better when I gripped my first bow." He grabbed a jug and downed the water quickly. Alodie shrugged.

"I guess I'm just not fit to use a bow – my current skills suit me fine."

"What you know now is never 'fine.' You always have to learn more." Alodie still wondered why the Bosmer even cared. How was he different than the other thieves around the Guild? He never asked to be trained.

Alodie sat silently, grabbing the jug from the table. He stared into the Bosmer's eyes.

"I'm not asking for favors. I'm going to leave here as soon as I possibly can," he said. Niruin's eyebrows shot up.

"Leave? Why?"

At this, Alodie remained silent, drinking the water from the jug.

Why? Because they were going to find him, that's why. The Oculatus always remember their "traitors" and if he knew any better he was certain that Dark Brotherhood assassins would be after him. Not after the secret he discovered, not when the Elder Councilor's "plan" hung in the balance. That they would assassinate Emperor Titus Mede II.

And now he ran with that knowledge burning within him. And he knew he couldn't do anything about it. _Nothing_.

When the Imperial never gave him an answer, the Bosmer decided not to press the matter. Everyone had their secrets – even he. He would trust the Imperial however, not just because of his similarities to Gallus but ... just because.

"By the way… if you need a quick getaway, you only need to press the stone on Jarl Crossed-Dagger's grave," he said motioning towards the hole that Vex had fallen through. Alodie nodded once. He would strike Goldenglow tonight.

* * *

**Sorry for the delay I've just been going through a bit of writers block (sigh). But don't worry! I've already written a few chapters ahead before I posted this so expect the next one to come out soon (after I edit it of course). Thanks for all the reviews so far and everyone who's been reading, I wouldn't be continuing this without it!**

**Next chapter is (finally) Goldenglow and I think I'm pretty happy with the chapter. Expect fun surprises next time :) **

**Oh, and if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to tell them to me (like what quests you would like to see me write as like a side chapter or part of the story). There is so much stuff in the game that I'm having trouble deciding whether this should come first or next or... gah! I think the main quest will start soon though, after Goldenglow, so if you're looking forward to that, only a few more chapters till I start getting into that. **

**I knew since starting this fanfiction that the pacing between Thieves Guild and Main Quest would be a problem but I think I can work it out. Of course, if you think it's weird - tell me and I could try and fix it (hopefully). And if anyone gets to be a bit out of character - tell me too. I want to get this right! **

**Wow, this has been a long note (sorry -_-') **

_Hinode~Dawn_


	7. Loud and Clear

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_"Why settle for just stabbing your foes when you can roast them alive in a gout of arcane fire?"_

―Marcurio

* * *

**Chapter Six: Loud and Clear**

He was only a simple hunter living off Skyrim poaching and looting where he could. Ralith never like mountains though and that was probably why climbing the one near the small town of Riverwood wasn't a good idea. He had to find the claw though! The gold…the riches! He never wanted to be a hunter but fate or the gods made him as such. And he would spit in whatever gods face that made him this way.

Laughing softly at the prospect of treasures, he scaled the southern face of the mountain underneath the afternoon sky towards the backside of Bleak Falls Barrow. He thought that surprise would benefit his crusade against the bandits.

When he asked the merchant in Riverwood for a job he never expected the interview to turn into a treasure hunt. And Lucan thought he would actually return to him with something that could be worth so much? Whatever, he didn't want the job anyway. He only had to get past a few small time bandits – nothing too large scale.

The hunter was so distracted with his thoughts of riches that he never saw the shadow high above him in the clouds. A large roar alerted him to the sky above, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. The dark brown scaled dragon rushed by him in a cloud of smoke, breaking rock and stone above him. He yelped as he dove to the side trying to avoid the boulders but they still hit him hard dragging him closer to the ground hundreds of feet below. The dragon was persistent, circling the sky like a hawk.

So, the rumors were true? He thought the whole Helgen incident was propaganda, but here was a dragon itching for his blood. The Bosmer felt like releasing his hands right then and there at the prospect.

Why attack him? He was a nobody! The dragon, however, didn't see the difference between a small snack and a large feast. Riverwood was right over the mountain! Why not go there?

The selfish thoughts were silenced as the dragon breathed a boiling hot gout of fire towards him. He tried to throw up a quick ward to avoid the blast but most of his skin had scorched before it had fully strengthened. He had to get out of there!

The dragon laughed softly though the creature appeared to be a bit _bored_ with the attack.

Skimming the mountain like an eagle flying above water, debris fell onto the poor hunter – dispelling his ward as a large boulder fell on top of him. Suddenly, he felt a large force push him off the mountain before he realized that it was the roar of the dragon. Instead of fire there came a large blast of power that ripped him off the side of the crag.

He died among the mammoth bones and skeletons below.

The dragon, unsatisfied with the kill, growled impatiently. He returned to the west where he would find his mountain and his wall. He wondered if there was anyone who could stop him. He laughed again but this time more ominously. Probably not.

* * *

After having dinner at the Ragged Flagon – which was mostly spent in a dark corner away from his fellow thieves – Alodie prepared to embark on his first mission though in reality he was excited about it at all. The friendly Bosmer left him after their small training session to do who knows what. Alodie was pretty sure it was a Guild mission – like his but less… hazardous. Vex had completely disappeared along with Brynjolf. And he was glad not to find Mercer anywhere – the man definitely tested his nerve.

However there was one moment between him and the Imperial named Dirge that sent him on edge.

"I don't care if you're best buddies with the Guild Master, I'll still smash in your skull if you try anything." And without even a second glance he walked away from his table surrounded by cutpurses and pickpockets. What was his problem?

As the sun began to set around six, he headed towards the back gates glaring at the guards as he went past. After the guards called for the gates to open, he heard a voice call out to him from behind.

"Making friends all over the place, are we?" Alodie turned to meet the voice and frowned. Delvin, to his great dismay, met him outside the gates with a smirk. "I knew you would go this way, partner," he said. At this, Alodie took a double take.

"_Partner_?" He thought that he would be taking the task on alone like most thieves would. The twilight sky twinkled underneath Delvin's charismatic smile.

"Mercer wants to make sure you do the job quickly and quietly so I'm here to oversee and determine whether you can handle it." Alod snorted deeply and started walking past the bald Breton into the now open gates.

"I don't need your help," he said. He was being sent into a feast of fifty ravenous crows and didn't need to be reminded that he was doomed to failure.

Delvin, however, followed behind persistently.

"The name is Delvin Mallory by the way," the thief tagged on. Alodie ignored the introduction and kept walking. "You know…if you go in through the front door, you might as well throw yourself into Lake Honrich to save them the trouble."

At this Alod turned to glare at the egotistical Breton.

"What if I wasn't going to go in through the front door?" he stated matter-of-factly. Though that was exactly what he was going to plan on doing. He didn't know of any back ways. At this, Mallory snickered a nasally laugh.

"Then you would be one hell of a prodigy indeed." Alodie rolled his eyes at the thief and continued past a large autumn colored tree down the path full of fallen leaves. Somehow, Delvin was able to keep up with his large strides that were meant to get rid of the nuisance. "For only I know another way in."

At this, Alodie perked up and tried – yet unable to – hide his curiosity.

"You do?"

Delvin nodded, pointing to Goldenglow – its shadow hovering near the horizon of the large lake. "Instead of going by land…" Alodie caught on, the idea sounding dangerous yet rational at the same time. He wasn't a fantastic swimmer – he should defiantly stay a land dweller and not go swimming with the Argonians – but if he had a boat then maybe...

Delvin moved his light eyebrows in a knowing fashion, egging him on to accept his unvoiced proposition. Alodie sighed.

"Where are we going?"

* * *

Alodie regretted agreeing to this as soon as he stepped onto the rickety boat. The misty lake did its job well no doubt. He was sure that whoever was in Goldenglow couldn't see their approaching fishing boat. This was what Delvin called "nature's hiding place" though he wasn't quite sure if the mist would be able to hide the lake – and them – for long. The sun set upon them as they made their trek across the reflecting waters, their destination a mile from shore. He didn't want Delvin to accompany him but the bald Breton insisted he come along – "Two is better than one," he remarked. He only hoped that the foolish man didn't get in his way, he wasn't used to working in pairs.

It was silent between the both of them, Alodie staring off towards the mist while Delvin inspected his nails… that was until the enthusiastic Breton decided to speak up.

"So, you nervous?" Delvin asked. Alodie looked up at the sudden break in silence and shook his head. He didn't make any attempts to speak, still angry over the sudden turn of events. At the gesture, Delvin sat back causing the boat to rock slightly, the water rippling as the boat drifted off towards their destination. "Is that so? You could've fooled me."

Alodie remained silent, rowing the boat once to get it to move a bit faster. "…though you really should be nervous. After all, it's the nerves that keep a man alive."Alodie noticed that the shadowy island of Goldenglow was still a while away and that this conversation was going to last ages. "'Is the target going to walk in?' 'What if I can't find it?' 'And if things turn out to be their worst?' It keeps you guessing."

Alodie continued to ignore the Breton, placing the paddle down into the fishing boat. "…and the worst never happens. _Usually_. A job I had with Brynjolf once was probably one of those times."

Alodie listened but feigned boredom. Delvin smiled. "One of my first missions for the guild. The hit was in Markarth – the damned place. Simply getting _inside_ there was a hassle. So many prying eyes, so many would be interrogators. But Gallus –right, Gallus was there too – insisted that we scout out the place. Let's just say the Silver-Bloods weren't happy about our snooping around town and fined us for… I don't even know – _nothing_? And we didn't want to get locked up in the mines so we had to break for it. Still regret not holding onto the city but sometimes bad luck happens."

Once Alodie heard the unfamiliar name, he looked towards Delvin with questioning eyes.

"Gallus? Who's that?" So much for not giving the man what he wanted – attention.

Delvin snapped his fingers quickly as it dawned onto him. "Oh that's right, you're a newcomer. He was our old Guild Master – terrible what happened to him." Delvin paused as he thought to tell the new thief about Gallus but he really didn't feel like going over the details again – Karliah's betrayal still hurt him to this day. Hurt everyone. Well – except the newcomers they've had since then. So, he shook his head. "It's not really my place to get into any more detail though."

Alodie barely accepted this answer but before he could protest, Delvin called out sharply. "Bend down, we're within range."

The island spread out before them like a plague, wooden bridges connected the smaller islands together and on them torches lit the night sky. The mercenaries lined the edge of the bridge, ever watchful of both the land and waters. On the largest island stood Goldenglow Estate, smoke rising from the chimney in small wisps. The night had fully enveloped them both as their boat drifted close to the large island – the mist rising as the hot sun faded from existence. Delvin smirked – as he always did – while Alodie frowned at the size of the place. How many rooms were there? How could he find a safe in such a place? Maybe that was why he had Delvin with him – did he have a map?

He moved is eyes to look at Delvin's admiring stare as the small amount of torch light reflected off of their faces. He was hiding something.

"So, what's the plan partner?" Delvin asked. He hadn't really thought of a "plan" per say since he really didn't know the layout of the place. He knew though that the hives would have to be last – well at least now they had to be.

"I thought you were just going to watch?" Alodie retorted. Delvin crossed his arms in defiance, pointing towards the estate with his head.

"If you just think I'm just here as an extra pair of eyes – you're wrong."

Alodie groaned, flexing his hands as he turned away from the estate. He lifted his hood over his head as he gazed back the way they came. It was too late to kick the Breton out of here and he wasn't sure of what to do himself. He thought that Delvin would command him rather than the other way around. Maybe this was what he meant by "watching over him."

"You shouldn't have tagged along then." Delvin laughed as he drew out a small unlit torch along with a knife. They reached the cliff soundlessly and hid the boat amongst the rocks. Delvin grunted as he heaved the fishing boat aside along with Alod, the Imperial's face hidden underneath his cowl. Alodie followed the Breton as he jumped over the rocks stealthily making sure not to disturb them. The torches made sure to light the entire place like it was day and the only darkness provided was beneath the wooden walls near a sewer grate that was partially open. Taking note of this, Alodie found that Delvin was staring straight at him.

"You sure you don't have a plan?" the thief asked. Alodie snorted. Oh, he had a plan – it just didn't involve _him_. Before he could answer, two mercenaries walked off the wooden wall, their heavily armored boots shaking the planks above them.

"When do you think we'll be paid? Aringoth has been locked up in his mansion ever since the incident with the little rat yesterday." The second man, a Dunmer in flowing furs, shook his head.

"Don't worry, if he doesn't give us our pay, we'll _make_ him pay." The two laughed heartedly at the thoughts of Aringoth's entrails being ripped out of him. The Nord took a swig of his mead and passed it to the Dunmer.

"Here, drink up, we might need it. I feel a chill in this godsforsaken air." And with that the two headed towards a rather large bon fire on the other island where many others were already merrymaking beneath the stars. Alodie smiled.

"I think I have a plan."

Delvin looked behind him, giving him a playful smile. "Oh really?"

* * *

The sewers beneath Goldenglow were similar to the Rat Ways however the pathways were much more compact and no one populated them. Alodie heard water flowing from the lake by the canals installed beneath the sewers and walked the path prescribed by Delvin.

His plan was simple; Delvin would wait for the mercenaries to get as drunk and off guard as possible before burning the hives causing most of the people inside – seeing the disaster happening outside – to rush out. Hopefully this would flush out most of the guard as they attempted to put out the flames and look for the trouble makers. Meanwhile he would strike the mansion and find the safe and get the hell out of there. He only had to hope that Delvin could distract them long enough to get the goods.

He stopped before an iron ladder and examined the hatch that most likely lead to the wine cellars. Climbing softly, Alodie lifted the hatch and peered carefully above him. He was right about it being a wine cellar; Honningbrew mead lined the racks and filled the tubs. There was so much mead that Alodie was tempted to taste it to see if it truly _was_ better than Black-Briar mead however he had a mission to take care of and a safe to find. Fortunately, no one thought to guard the cellar though a burley Nord stood guard in front of the door, watching the halls for intruders. He felt as if the guard was a bit more aware then normal as he peered through the door – mercenaries checked halls, changed their routine, and inspected even the wardrobes. After Vex's unsuccessful break-in, Aringoth certainly put the mercs on a tight guard. And that would be bad for him. And he had to do all of this without killing anyone.

Sighing inside his head, he inspected the guard before him who was gratefully too worried about the front door then the door behind him suddenly opening on its own. He would wait until Delvin would pull through for him and then strike.

Suddenly, after a few minutes of waiting behind the door, he heard a few shouts from outside and a few from inside. An Altmer suddenly came from upstairs, flustered.

"What in Oblivion are you doing! They're striking again!" The Nord mercenary by the door took a step forward along with the other five mercenaries that guarded the halls. He shook his head disappointedly at them, throwing a bag of coins at what was apparently the leader. "Bring me their heads or yours, I don't care just stop them!"

Licking his lips with greed, he looked up at his band of five mercs. "You heard the man, find the skeever!" The Altmer which was probably Aringoth sighed loudly and headed up stairs once again, Alodie guessing that he was going to secure something of importance. Finding the Elf to be a good lead, he chased Aringoth upstairs towards the den of sabertooths.

He knew that the safe would be locked tight and that the amount of lockpicks he had wouldn't do anything. He needed a key and he knew exactly who had it.

He climbed the stairs with an even extra care knowing that those above hadn't left to deal with the threat. Before he could even check to see Aringoth's whereabouts, a merc made his way past the hall quickly. The Imperial jumped back just in time, hiding within the shadows as the warrior stalked the halls. This, however, was not enough to stop the Nord's suspicions.

Alod held against the wall tightly as the Nord checked the stairwell. _Not here_, Alodie thought as if trying to project his thoughts into the man. _Please don't look over here, there is _**_nothing_**_ here_. Suddenly, as if there was a small chime in the back of his head, the Nord looked over hearing a faint voice in the distance. Knowing that there were intruders, he left the stairway in search of the voice leaving Alodie catching his breath. Why did he have to have such great luck during the best of times yet the worst luck the worst of times? Even he didn't know.

Scouting the hall, he would dive into empty guest rooms as a group of mercs would storm down the hall, weapons drawn. He didn't even know how the second floor could stay up with so much heavy armored warriors running around – the place looked at least a few centuries old maybe even old enough to have been built in the 3rd era.

He was so distracted with such a revelation that he didn't notice the firm point that had suddenly found its way onto his hooded neck. His eyes widened as he felt a presence suddenly behind him, probably an invisibility spell finally collapsing. He stood slowly, not even daring to turn and face his captor.

"So, what does Maven want this time, thief? Honey?" He laughed loudly causing the knife to jerk slightly, tearing his hood. "How she could risk _lives_ for such a trivial thing astounds me." He recognized the voice as being Aringoth's and cursed himself for not even noticing him as he walked into the Elf's very own room. He knew he should have asked Delvin for some maps.

Making for his weapons as an instinctual reaction, his legs were suddenly kicked from beneath him violently sending him tumbling to the ground. He found that such an action by Aringoth was a mistake and easily recovered from the weak attack, facing his opponent with his sword drawn.

The middle aged elf had a winning smile and held his glass dagger before him as if he was posing for a painting. He laughed at him. "You are actually going to kill me? Sorry, but I know that Maven wants me alive else this property will never become hers." He lifted a large scroll that he held and unraveled it, the small print obscure and unrecognizable. "My will states that when I die, Honningbrew will get this land along with all profits from it. You cannot argue what is on paper, as the Imperials like to say." He wiped his mouth once with his right hand, looking over the cloaked thief before him.

Alodie couldn't argue that. Killing the Elf where he stood would solve nothing and Mercer would surly have his neck if that happened. He lowered his sword slightly and at this Aringoth smiled. "Guards, kill him!" he yelled.

Suddenly the room was filled with numerous mercenaries each training their axes, swords and pikes at him. He found himself up against the wall as the five walked slow towards him knowing that a bloodbath would soon follow.

Knowing he was out of options, Alodie lifted his hand – a flame suddenly finding its way there.

"I will burn us all to the ground," Alodie threatened.

Aringoth laughed.

"You wouldn't dare. After all, Maven has you in her pocket."

The fire in Alodie's hand grew.

"You cannot argue what is on burnt paper, as us Imperials like to say."

Aringoth's face suddenly froze along with the mercs at the seriousness of the Imperial's statements. They all looked between themselves as if they could risk attacking the thief without burning the entire mansion to the ground. They certainly wouldn't get paid that way. When Aringoth noticed his mercs frightened faces, he waved his knife.

"He is obviously bluffing— kill him! Kill him now!"

One warrior glared at Aringoth with a fury. "But we haven't been paid yet Aringoth, so why should we risk our neckswhen all the money is here?"

"You fools!"

Before the mercenaries could argue, Alodie struck a Redguard square in the chest with a flourish of his sword, the electricity from it sending waves to the other four. The merc was an unnecessary death but he had to complete the mission no matter what. As the Redguard fell, the location of the key became apparent – placed on top of the dresser closest next to the bed. He reached to grab it as a Nord warrior dove for him with his axe, smiling with bloodlust. Instead of seeing the Imperial sliced onto his weapon, he saw the ruined floorboards. Alodie kicked the Nord's face in sending him reeling – unconscious – onto his back.

Before he could go for the key again, a Bosmer woman growled deeply at him – slashing viciously with twin daggers. The other two – both Nords – prepared to attack the thief as a pair and catch the off balanced Imperial with their swords.

Before the attack continued, a sound from above whispered to them and grew louder and more… clear. Alodie recognized the echo, his eyes widening._ H-how? I thought that it was going toward—_

Screams_. _Roars. _Dragon_. Helgen.

The mercs suddenly stopped their pursuit along with Aringoth whose face showed his complete disbelief.

"T-there is—? How—?"Seeing the clear distraction, Alodie made for the key and dashed out of the door, Aringoth's face turning purple. "What do you oafs think you're doing? Go and catch him!"

"B-but there's a dra—"

Alodie couldn't hear the rest of the conversation as he went for the basement, the rest of the mercenaries too worried over the dragon then the possible intruder. Heading to the basement once more, he easily found the safe and unlocked it – grabbing a bag of gold and a scroll– making no pause to read its contents. Stuffing the safe's matters into his satchel, he rushed towards the sewers, hoping that Delvin was there to meet him.

* * *

Setting fire to the hives had been the easy part for Delvin but avoiding the drunken louts at the same time? Thankfully, the guards had trouble peering past the bright lights of the bon fire and couldn't see two feet outside of the island. That was the drawback of have too many torches – and being drunk on top of it. He shook his head as a few guards ran past his position once again.

He had to admit, the kid thought of a brilliant plan – one he would expect himself to come up with – but it had too many flaws. First was that he didn't think about scouting out the place before he attacked. Second was that he didn't think of a backup plan. The first rule of any break-in was to always – _always_ –have a backup plan. When he asked him about one, he only gained a blank stare as if his plan was flawless from the beginning.

He checked the hatch again. The kid was already in there for over thirty minutes after he lit the hives, he wondered if something went wrong.

Before he could crawl in there and investigate, a loud roar from above distracted his attentions causing him to look up into the Masser filled sky.

A dragon. Well, at least some rumors were true; he only wished that this one didn't burn up everything they were trying to achieve. Ducking as the dragon swooped by, he heard the animal growl something in an extinct language – aldmerish? No, it was too gritty and not light like the old High Elf language. Whatever, he didn't have any time to guess.

Before he abandoned the Imperial to his fate, Alodie appeared from the hatch rolling a rock over it in a rush. Everyone was in a great panic, torches flew out into the lake in fright as the mercs drew swords, and arrows flew out into the deep moonlit night.

To Delvin's relief the dragon didn't breathe fire like all the stories of legend.

The lake soon became iced over as the dragon sent its subzero degree breathe into the "fifty" mercenaries who were scrambling to kill the beast. It all proved to be for naught however. Without there being any stable place for the dragon to land, it wrecked its havoc upon the mercs it flew above them like a bad odor. Delvin smiled. It had to get tired eventually.

Meanwhile, the only thing Alodie wanted to do was _leave_.

Moving to boat with a great heave, he reached in a grabbed the paddle – glaring at Delvin's slow pace.

"We have to go now!" he yelled over the dragon's roar. Delvin, infatuated with the creature, didn't notice the kid pulling the boat out into the waters and hurried along into the fishing boat.

A blue streak lit up the sky as the dragon dove again like a bird hunting for fish, grabbing a few screaming mercs into its mouth and throwing them into the lake below. _At least we won't be blamed for this_, Delvin thought bitterly. Before Alodie could even say that they were "safe" the dragon noticed in the corner of his eye the small boat heading for shore. The Imperial's heart almost stopped as the dragon made for them; yellow eyes trained on them like _they_ were the fish and not the fisher.

Delvin, noticing their impending doom, ducked into the small boat leaving the Imperial staring towards the monstrosity.

"Get down!" he yelled. Alod, either not hearing or completely oblivious, didn't comply. _Idiot, what is he doing?_ Delvin thought. As the dragon rushed into their position, water splashing from the rush of air, Alodie ducked just as the large force of the dragon's tail knocked the boat into the lake, shattering it to pieces. The cold water almost numbed him and the dark depths below suddenly grew closer as he sank like an old stone. .

Although he grew up along the banks of Lake Rumare, he never learned how to swim. The waters were infested with slaughter fish and anyone who took a dive also wrote their suicide note and will. The waterfront district of the Imperial City had never been kind to him – the Great War decimated the entire docks, repairs still went on - sometimes canceled due to a lack of funds. It was one of the reasons why he joined the Oculatus, the money definitely went a long way to help his sister. Until she died.

Biting his lip, he struggled underneath the water – flailing uselessly underneath the waves. Schools of fish avoided him and the heavy water soon felt a bit too heavy for him – crushing him under like a furnace pressing hot iron. He knew a water breathing spell but he had to have cast it before he went under.

Maybe he should just die? Drowning defiantly hadn't been his planned good death but maybe it would be for the best if he was buried with his secrets. The Oculatus had been his life before it left him, before they _killed_ her. Then tried to kill him.

And it had been his fault. All his.

Before he could breathe in the dangerous cold water, he felt a tug on his cloak then a fierce pull. Bubbles clouded the water as he finally exhaled at Delvin's presence. He might live to see another day after all…as he was pulled up he sighed inwardly finally collapsing from lose of breath.

Delvin pulled the light Imperial to shore with a grunt, breathing in the generous air from above in great gusts. The Imperial lay immobile as the dragon continued to terrorize Goldenglow before the thing realized it was fighting a losing fight, flying towards the eastern mountains. He laughed nervously before completely bursting out – holding his side snorting.

"I've never experienced anything like that," he said to himself. Finally realizing that Alodie was completely unconscious, Delvin sighed. "You would make for a great assassin that's for sure." Smirking he sat up, squeezing his leather armor dry. Alodie remained still. "I'm not sure if you would though…senseless 'morals' and all." Realizing he was talking to himself he moved Alodie up a bit away from the shoreline. He gazed up into the sky in the direction the dragon flew in, shaking his head. "Well…that _was_ convenient."

* * *

**So there we have it! The first time I did the quest Loud and Clear a dragon attacked me and I thought "Wow, what a great distraction!" as I swam away laughing manically :p. I thought it would be perfect to add that in seeing as how I'm making dragons appear more frequently than in the game (it won't be enough to annoy you guys though I hope). And as I've always said before…review, review, review! Even if it's just "hi" or something (but not really please give me something to smile at : ) ) I've worked rather hard on the story and I just sort of feel like it's…a bit worthless if no one is paying attention T_T Is it just boring or something 0_0? Help me out here!**

**By the way, I noticed that my chapters all had stupid mistakes that I didn't notice before so if there are any beta-readers out there that are interested in helping me clean this up, pm me. It would be rather helpful : )**

**Until next time! (I hope T_T)**

****_Hinode~Dawn_


	8. Circle Among Diamonds

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_"My title is just a formality. I've always been in charge around here."_

Maven Black-Briar

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Circle Among Diamonds**

Maven Black-Briar was fuming – not at anyone in particular for once – just fuming. After all, Goldenglow hadn't exactly gone as planned since the entire place had been razed by a _dragon_ of all things. As she got the reports and the deed from the Guild, she questioned whether that dragon had been sent by someone deliberately or if it was simple coincidence. Knowing the business, however, there was no such thing as coincidence. Fortunately, the thing had been injured by the fifty or so mercs so it wouldn't be coming to Riften any time soon.

Sitting back in her chair as she enjoyed her lunch of goat topped with nontoxic nightshade, she glared at her son who was giving her a fake smile of nervousness. He was a fool.

"So, mother, I assume you aren't too… pleased with the events at Goldenglow?" he asked. Maven stabbed at her leg, the blood flowing out in rivers. Hemming swallowed his food slowly.

"_Aren't too pleased_? Do you _think_ I should be?" At her raised voice her son put his fork down softly and carefully, ready to deal with the storm that was Maven Black-Briar.

"No mother…I was just wondering what you were going to do about Honningbrew. After all, they aren't going away," he said. Maven took a large bite from her meal and took a sip from her glass of water. What Hemming said was true, Honningbrew had become a nuisance. If she was to run her monopoly properly, she had to invest in wiping the new business out. The East Empire Company already offered to ship her mead to Cyrodiil, she didn't want the upstanding Honningbrew to ruin her success.

"I know what I am doing Hemming," she defended. She hated it when her own son questioned her decisions. Honningbrew was not a threat. Not in the least. Not when she had both the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild at her back. One small assassination or one small change within Honningbrew would spell that entrepreneurs end.

As they ate lunch she went over he options. Assassinating the man would not give her the information she needed. She still wondered how a small to do Whiterun farmer could amass such a fortune to buy out Goldenglow. It still baffled her. No, someone was out to get her specifically and she had no idea who. It was quite possible though that her trust troubled more than a few people. Friends were what she wanted and most of the enemies she had were in burial cans. Dead.

Hemming coughed once as he finished his lunch handing his plate to a Khajiit servant. It was in a way that her own son was like a servant to her. She had never been truly pleased with Hemming's sheep like existence. If Maven told him to murder his own daughter he would do it. He was a grunt and nothing more.

Sighing, Hemming stood as Maven herself finished and nodded at his mother respectfully. "I hope you sort everything out, mother." Before he left, Maven placed a strong hand on his shoulder and pulled him aside so that the servants could not hear them.

"I am wondering who exactly got the deed from Goldenglow," she whispered. Hemming shrugged wondering why she would even care.

"A new recruit went in along with the help of Delvin. Apparently he's Brynjolf's new find. A prodigy."

"I want to meet him," she said. Hemming's eyes swam with confusion. Why would Maven want to meet the new thief? Sure he did do the impossible by escaping both Aringoth's mercenaries _and_ an ice breathing dragon but why would Maven want him?

Maven, seeing a bit of jealousy that normally came from Hemming when she demanded to see someone, smirked. "Contact Mercer and tell him that I want to see this 'prodigy.'"

* * *

Alodie woke up to the stink of the sewers and the loud sounds of the Guild. He groaned deeply, his head aching from his deep sleep and rubbed his temple in slow circles. The mission was complete though without him almost drowning in the process. He noticed that he had a lack of any upper clothing as he laid on his bed and sat up quickly. Brynjolf sat near the fire along with the man named Viper. Delvin muttered something softly that was followed by the two bawling in laughter.

Sighing, Alod grabbed a spare tunic from his side table and pulled it over his bare torso. This garnered the attention from the three and their laughter ceased into small chuckles. He walked over to the group mildly interested though regretting what the trio had to say about his mission. Delvin nodded his head at him as if he had done something amusing.

"Finally awake kid? I didn't know you couldn't swim, you almost drowned." Brynjolf snorted softly, sipping on his ale while Viper tried to hide his face as it grew a large smile. Alodie's face was blank.

"And what, may I ask, is so funny?" he asked. Brynjolf waved his hand as if to push his statement away while Delvin kept his face straight.

"Nothing, nothing," Brynjolf began. "Well…" Both the red headed Nord and Viper suffered from uncontrollable laughter that was noticed by most as they turned their heads towards the disturbance. Alodie remained oblivious along with them. "You should have seen her face!" he continued.

"And when you said that Delvin," Viper stuttered, trying to breath, "she was so red I could swear she was bleeding from the outside!" Alodie was growing impatient with the three thieves and crossed his arms, giving them a strict stare. They were so immature.

"What in Dibella's name are you talking about?"

Before anyone could answer, Vex sauntered in from the training room – hearing their loud exclamation – and proceeded to march into their conversation, a large finger stabbing towards Delvin.

"So, you telling everyone now Delvin?" she said. Vex clutched her left hand into a tight fist. "I swear by the eight if I get my hands on you, I _will_ make sure your eyes will not see me or the light ever again!" Alodie, still confused, scratched his head. What exactly did the Breton do to Vex? The Imperial, noticing Alodie standing off to the side, moved her finger towards him. "And _you_," she began darkly. "Trying to take a peek at me like that!"

Alodie's eyes widened. "Like _what_?"

Seeing that he had no idea what she was talking about, she frowned in confusion. She lowered her finger and glared at Delvin who had turned away from the two as if there was something more interesting in the ceiling. She seethed.

"You almost _drowned_ to take a peek with pervert over there when I was washing myself in the lake," she growled. "Or… at least I _thought _you did."

Alodie in turn went to glare at the Breton. "You said I did _what_?"

"Just a bit of fun, kid. No harm done."

_No harm done? _He swore loudly, shaking his head. So, his "partner" decided he would play a practical joke on him, eh? He knew that Vex hated his guts so now Delvin was trying to ignite even _more_ rage from the Imperial woman. Vex could have killed him in his sleep!

Delvin, seeing Alodie's horrified expression, chuckled deeply, waving towards Vex. "Don't take it out on him little Vex. He didn't see a thing."

Vex still wasn't convinced that her dignity had just been played with but wondered why the Imperial was soaked to the bone in the first place. Delvin hadn't tried to kill him, did he? Seeing accusing eyes on him, the Breton shrugged as if he was surprised that she out of all people hadn't heard about it yet. "He did it Vex. He did the impossible."

She frowned; an instant spark of jealousy hit her heart like an arrow. The _newbie_ broke into Goldenglow and got out _alive_? _How_? And so fast?

Alodie noticed that hateful eyes were upon him but ignored the middle aged woman's glare. He really couldn't blame Vex for being unable to complete the mission; if it wasn't for the dragon he would probably be dead.

_If it wasn't for the dragon_.

His eyes widened as he realized that the thing could start attacking Riften and glanced towards the sewer exit as if he would make a dash for it. Brynjolf noticed the Imperial grow uncomfortable and shook his head, smiling.

"The thing's gone, lad, don't worry."

He knew that it would be back though. There was always more. It was weird, so far every time he got into a life or death situation a dragon managed to chase his fated death away. First with his execution at Helgen then at Goldenglow. It was as if supernatural beings were indirectly trying to protect him. But why? And how? Was it fate?

Shaking his head, he moved to sit heavily onto a chair – shocked. The dragons were becoming a threat – a threat that needed to be extinguished. He considered trying to find the black dragon again and ask it how they came into this world and why it decided to strike Helgen ultimately saving his already claimed life, but he didn't even know where the creature flew off to after that fateful day two weeks ago. And where did the other dragon come from? There was more than one?

And what if they couldn't be slain? What then?

There was one thing he knew for certain though. _At least Mjoll will believe me _now, he thought humorlessly. The poor Nord was still in prison while her Imperial companion sat in his house unable to do a thing. And it was his entire fault.

Vex looked the four men before her over before realizing that they were talking about the dragon that appeared as she toke her morning bath. She remembered that she considered warning Riften of the beast but before she could decide on anything the monster had injured its wing and flew off to safer ground in the mountains. And before she left, Delvin stood before her lifting Alodie's unconscious form.

But, of course, the real reason Alodie had almost drowned was because the beast – as a last ditch effort – struck their boat in a fit of rage. She felt stupid for believing Delvin's outrageous story. No matter how much she disliked the young Imperial, she couldn't hate him. She still thought that he was in over his head though.

Turning, Vex – satisfied with the explanation – left the men to their games. _Boys will be boys…_

That night the Guild celebrated their victory at Goldenglow. The Ragged Flagon was bursting at the seams with the amount of no-good-doers and crooks, Vekel could have never been happier at the business. Mercer was still missing from the small festivities and Vex – probably still troubled over Delvin's small scheme – continued to hone her skills in the training room away from the others. Alodie didn't really feel bad for the small Imperial though. She simply had a spring of bad luck while he somehow had luck on his side.

Although he along with Delvin had recovered the gold and deed, Alodie didn't seem to be revered at all by his fellow Guild mates. Most believed that it had been Delvin who did all the work (except that it had been he who ordered the Breton to cause a distraction) and that it had been Delvin who had snuck into Goldenglow (when he didn't even set a foot into the building).

He didn't mind it though, all he needed was the 300 gold that Brynjolf gave to him and a small pat on the back to feel accomplished. Any more than that and he would start begging for his own privacy.

He left his drink untouched and observed everyone else in the merrymaking – one man spilling his drink over during a contest of wills. He was still puzzled over the appearance of the dragon and of Mercer's disappearance and his thoughts consumed him until he gazed blankly at the stone walls.

Before he could leave the festivities and return to his chambers, he was accustomed by a dark skinned Redguard, her mouth a long line. She sat beside him at the bar.

"You must be Alodie – Brynjolf's pet," she said. Alodie rolled his eyes and finally took a drink of his mead. That would be his label forever wouldn't it? He was the abandoned fish that Brynjolf caught. He was his _pet_. His _prodigy_. Just thinking about it made him sick. When she noticed that he was being unresponsive she shoved her face into his view and scowled.

"Well I guess you better get well acquainted with me newcomer," she said. Alodie set his drink aside to give the Redguard before him a pathetic look.

"And why would I want to do that?" he asked. She smiled at the Imperial and sat back resting her head on her hand.

"I'm the goods dealer down here, Tonilia. What is stolen for the Guild is bought from the Guild. You sell stolen goods to me for their full price and Sapphire there ransoms them back at a higher price. Funds all of our exploits – including your own." Alodie sat back at this to get a better look at the Redguard.

She was a fence. He had heard about the underground market when he was a spy for the Empire – most of his jobs involved a gang or two that sold moonsuger illegally or dealt Imperial weaponry to bandits and minor thugs. And those were the smaller jobs. Corrupted Synod healers going underground – selling their torturous spells, deadric worshipers running amok in the Imperial cities sewers— even the Dominion participated in the underground – secrets on sale for the highest bidder. It was one of the reasons why he despised fences and illegal activities all around.

But he really couldn't complain about that any more now, could he? He was a common thief now – he was one of _them_. When he realized this he took a deep drought of his sour mead, regretting even doing so. Tonilia sat silently.

"Just to let you know…if you do anything to hurt Brynjolf, I _will_ make you pay," she said, pointing a finger at him. _Pretty defensive about Brynjolf, huh_? He thought. Alodie wasn't enjoying the conversation with the fence and doubted he would ever attempt to steal from the honest people – or well he would at least try to. He doubted that even _his_ morals would be able to stay in check now that he was in the land of the barbarians.

Throwing something heavily onto the bar, Tonilia returned to the drinking game that a Dunmer thief had concocted (which consisted of trying to name all of the deadric princes and planes without mixing any of them up). Alodie saw a folded piece of thin leather armor with a long dark olive cloak with the Guild's symbol sewn onto the left side – a circle within a diamond. He felt the sleek fabric beneath his fingers as he moved it over to observe the armor which was similar to Vex's in that is was light yet also close to Brynjolf's in its thickness. He guessed it to be his Guild uniform.

He glanced over towards the now oblivious Redguard who made a point not to stare into his direction. He got up from his seat taking the new armor and cloak along with him. _I guess this makes it official then._ He was a member of the Thieves Guild and completely despised it.

* * *

After fitting on his armor and darning his cloak, Alodie made his way to the "secret" entrance of the Thieves Guild ready to face Mercer who had called for his presence through the "messenger" Vekel. He had a pretty good idea why as well. Goldenglow estate had become a wreck after the dragon attack though its produce – the twenty or so hives the dotted the island – had strangely remained intact. Brynjolf had told him of the marvelous success of his first mission and Delvin soon became a – though unwanted –friend.

He was pretty sure that his meeting with the humorless Guild Master would not go well. As he walked silently past prone thieves who _probably_ slept restlessly after all of their misdeeds, he wondered what exactly the Guild Master – the raven eyed Breton who glared at him now – wanted from him. Obviously it was of some importance if he was going to take on another job right after the last one. He was obviously unwelcome.

Mercer only glanced at him briefly before he motioned to the chair in front of his desk – mountains of paperwork flooded the normally empty table. Alodie sat – though really only so that Mercer didn't have to say anything extra to him – and proceeded to wait for the feared Guild leader to speak. And the silence didn't last long either.

"Apparently our client from the last mission – Maven Black-Briar – thought highly of your success. She wants to see you personally for your next mission." At the name of Maven Black-Briar, Alod sat back in his seat astonished. He wasn't sure if it was normal for the clients to contact the thieves directly especially Maven Black-Briar herself – she was a street name even in the Imperial City for Mara's sake! – and felt that she had a very dangerous and highly impossible mission to give him yet again. He thought that he would have some sort of break after Goldenglow – maybe actually get to know some of the thieves in the Guild – but he felt that doing such a thing would only make separation impossible.

Mercer himself was puzzled when he was secretly given the scroll as he walked Riften's streets only to see that the messenger had completely disappeared before he could question the reasons. He knew it had something to do with Honningbrew though – knowing Maven. Their business contract between the Guild and Maven was older then this new Jarl. The Maven back then had been a nobody Thane's daughter yet ambitious in her own right. She was of self-made nobility – the most dangerous kind. She knew everybody, had friends in high places, and had her coins spent towards the right people.

And now someone wanted to usurp her fame.

_The fool,_ Mercer thought bitterly as he looked the new recruit over, _Maven's going to be disappointed with him – he's definitely not what I would imagine him to be. _After Mercer went over the details as to quite possibly _why_ Maven wanted to see him, Alodie closed his eyes tightly, holding his temple as his usual sign of frustration.

"She wants to see me at dinner? At her manor? _Now_?" he asked. Mercer sighed delving into his desk to produce a document of some sort.

"Don't ask me what it is that she exactly wants. There is only one thing you need to know," he said opening the scroll. "_Don't_ misrepresent the Guild. I still can't believe Maven would even want to see someone like you but we have to respect her wishes. Don't screw us up; she's probably the only client we have left." Alodie tilted his head slightly in confusion after he mentioned that. No clients? But wasn't the Thieves Guild infamous in Skyrim? He remembered the old tales – though mostly of the Cyrodiilic brand of thieves – of the Grey Fox and how everyone in Tamriel both feared yet revered him. People to this day still had no idea what happened to the man behind the mask.

And, what, was this Thieves Guild so down on their luck that the only client they had was probably a thief herself? Riften had been notorious for deadly dealings and unwelcoming pickpockets before, but did they even have _any_ influence outside of Riften now?

Mercer – handing Alodie the note that was given to him on the street – returned to his scrolls that he bent over. Alodie, curious, glanced the papers over to see a strange looking statue of an elf and some sort in a language he couldn't read beside it.

Mercer, seeing Alodie bending over his work, quickly rolled the scroll up, glaring at the Imperial. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, boy," he muttered. Alodie, getting the hint that he wasn't wanted by the apprehensive man, headed towards the exit chambers to Jarl Crossed-Dagger's grave. Straightening his new cloak a bit, he prepared himself to face probably the most influential noble in all of Skyrim.

* * *

Mjoll bit her lip as she stared at the greasy bars of her cell into the cell across from her, seething. The guards had indeed come for her but they didn't even need the stupid evidence to arrest her (evidence which Aerin hide underneath his bed as if he could save her and place the blame on himself). Alodie had never been needed – it was only some stupid trust test that if they found the dagger in their home they would know him to be as backstabbing as them. _The bastards_. And here she was, rotting away for no reason whatsoever.

Maybe Alodie was right. It was her pride that kept her in Riften and it was her pride that caused her to protest her sentence. She was charged of murder of all things. _Murder_. And the beggars and deprived people of Riften wouldn't help her now – not the Jarl, no one. Not even Aerin.

She was so lost within her thoughts that she never noticed the man across from her cell – dressed unusually well for a prisoner – calling out to her in a whisper.

"Hey, you. Barbarian," he said, glancing at the wine colored guards posted near the exits. He sighed in relief. "You're getting out of here soon, yes?" Mjoll smiled humorously at the man. She knew who he was and wondered why the man never attempted to speak to her before. Probably because she kept badmouthing the guards causing a few new bruises to form on her upper forehead. Curious, she bent closer to Sibbi Black-Briar – the troublemaker of the family.

"What do you want Black-Briar scum?" she spat, trying to keep her voice down. The man smiled, waving his finger to her as if taunting a child.

"Ah, but you haven't heard my proposition. Once you get out I'll be sure to make it worth your while to get your 'revenge' per say on mother. I certainly want to." Mjoll rolled her eyes at the scum. Sibbi's arrest last month gave all of Riften a turn on their heels but she wasn't very surprised. The man across from her had killed a man – an honest, hardworking, _man_ – for cheating with his soon to be bride. Their love had obviously been one-sided. Or no-sided

Sibbi, realizing that his misdeeds had spread around town, groaned. "Look whatever Maven told you is a complete lie. He attacked me first! I had to defend myself right?" Defend himself? The man had no weapons at all while Sibbi stabbed the man and left him for dead. A brawl turned murder.

Seeing that he was going nowhere with the Nord warrior, he came closer to the bars. "I don't care what you have to say about me. All I want is my revenge on _her_."

"Look Black-Briar you don't have my sympathy. While you stand there guilty I'm here on false charges. I don't feel like helping your kind at all right now," she said. Sibbi stared blankly ahead as if considering the Nord warrior's words before smiling a crooked and dangerous smile.

"What if I helped you get out of here then?" At this, Mjoll perked up causing the already smiling convict to grin even more. "That is…if you help me get out of here as well." Mjoll rolled her eyes again signaling her disbelief.

"And how in Talos's name are you going to do that?" she asked. Sibbi frowned deciding to sit back in a red velvet chair beside an ornate desk. He tapped his fingers as if he was thinking of a plan before snapping his fingers in triumph.

"I will ask mother directly to let you go. I'm still able to send out messages from my cell so—"

"I seriously doubt that your 'mother' would listen to anything you say," Mjoll responded crossing her arms. Sibbi put his finger to his lips.

"Shh! I'm not finished yet. Anyway, so I would be able to sign you away to another jail of some such because you've been a disturbance," he said. "And mother _always_ listens to me. I still attempt to play with her as we speak." Mjoll shook her head at the stupid Nord. She highly doubted that Sibbi out of all people – _Sibbi_ the most despicable and disgusting of the Black-Briar family – would help her. She glared at the pampered Nord.

"And why, exactly, would you want to help me?" she asked. He smiled rubbing his dark stubble with a practiced swipe.

"I can't believe mother would actually leave me in here for nine months. Can you believe it? _Nine months_! So much could happen in nine months, so I decided to take matters into…my own hands shall we say." Mjoll grew impatient at the roundabout way he was speaking.

"Just get to the point," she said. Sibbi put his finger to his mouth again as if that and that alone could silence her. Mjoll felt like rolling her eyes again.

"Shh! Anyway, I 'accidentally' _lent_ out my mother's horse – Frost – to a client. Even though that horse is supposed to be _mine_. Now the stupid man wants the horse but how am I supposed to get the animal when I'm in here?"

Mjoll snickered. "Well, that's too bad for you," she said. Sibbi decided to ignore her instead of waving his arms about like she was a demented child.

"When you get out of here I want you to give the horse to my client – it should be at the Black-Briar stables near the front of town. You'll know Frost when you see him – should be tagged and marked with the Black-Briar's symbol. Promise me this and I'll get you out."

Mjoll scoffed at him. She wouldn't do a thing that this man wanted her to do. She was basically stealing – though from someone she hated with a deep passion – and she was never one to randomly commit acts of theft. No matter how many offers or deals this Sibbi would make, she wouldn't take them.

Seeing the warrior shaking her head, Sibbi sighed. "You're going to miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity. You never know, I could be the owner of Black-Briar meadery someday. Helping me out would do you a load of good."

"I don't think so," she said quickly. The man shook his head completely defeated. Even he could see there was no reasoning with her.

"Fine, rot in Oblivion for all I care."

She was pretty sure that she'd rot in Oblivion anyway.

* * *

Maven's manor stood over three stories tall, its wood had the smell of being freshly cut and the door handle was garnished in pure silver. It was around midnight when Alodie left and he wondered why exactly the proprietor wanted to see him and at such a late hour. He wore his cloak in order to signal that he truly was a member of the infamous Guild. He hoped for a somewhat warm welcome though.

Knocking politely, the door quickly opened to reveal a familiar face. Seeing the man's face, Alodie immediately grimaced. _So much for that warm welcome_.

The Nord Maul frowned as he saw the Imperial he had tried to stop entering Riften a few weeks ago. Maul, at first suspicious as to why the Imperial stood in front of Maven's door, barred it threateningly and growled almost like a rabid wolf before noticing the Guild's symbol upon his breast. _Thieves Guild_?

He hadn't expected that the man that recovered Goldenglow for Maven had been _him_ of all people. He relaxed slightly though he still had his guard up noticing the new sword and armor he had acquired over the past week. If he made any moves towards Maven, he was a dead man.

"What do you want?" he asked crudely. Alodie smiled lightly trying to intimidate the Nord.

"I'm getting Maven's 'permission,'" he said as a reminder from their last conversation. Maul grimaced realizing he had led himself to that response. Shaking his head softly, the Nord tried to stop himself from pouncing on the Imperial right then and there. Knowing that Maven was probably expecting him as a "guest" he moved out of the door frame and sneered.

"Mind your manners now," he threatened darkly.

Alodie tried to ignore the Nord's intimidating stare by meeting it with his own, remembering Mercer's words. He couldn't misrepresent the Guild and this grunt of a mercenary wouldn't bother him. Turning, he stepped inside the manner taking off his hood, the large oak doors shutting loudly behind him. He was in the bear's den.

The first thing he noticed as he entered Maven's mansion was how neat and orderly everything was. Not a single book on a shelf was misplaced, not a single parchment on the desk had fallen onto the floor, and not a single jewel was simply laying out for viewing pleasures. He noticed that Maven hid her wealth as he strolled down the halls being led by Maul. All of the cabinets had large locks on them including all of the doors. If there was anything that could be opened it was closed forever by Maven's padlocks. Alodie realized that she was as paranoid as any crime lord in Riften.

Stepping lightly on the blue dyed elk furred rug which had patterns of a weird sort, Alod kept his eyes forward onto the Nord who stopped almost as quickly as he had begun, knocking on another heavily locked door.

"You have another guest Maven," he said almost shouting into the next room. Both of them waited on the other side of the door as they heard a resounding click from the lock. Maul opened it after a while and walked in before Alodie who took in his surroundings casually.

Although he has been to rich and sophisticated dining halls before Maven's dining hall was simply… _normal_. Nothing screamed out to him that she was the richest woman in probably all of Skyrim though there were a few exceptions, a jeweled crown discarded on top of a mantle being among them. He thought that maybe the Nords had a different perception of wealth, food being one of them.

Mountains of meat and vegetables piled onto the long wooden table as if they were going to feed one hundred people but no, the only people there was Maven herself along with a man who was probably her son. Alodie didn't see Maven's husband and doubted that she even had one.

"I presume you're bothering me for a good reason," she said. Maul remained standing as Maven observed the newcomer. He defiantly wasn't what she expected him to be, maybe if he had been a bit older and loftier and this "prodigy" wasn't even close to that. Instead she saw a boy who didn't know what he was getting himself into. She glared sternly at Maul whose face twitched noticeably.

"Are you sure this is the man, Maul?" she asked as if disappointed. Alodie, prepared to be questioned, held up the scroll that had been Mercer's message towards Maven.

"Mercer sent me because you wanted me. I'm the one who broke into Goldenglow," he said slowly so that the people in the room listened. Alodie handed Maven the scroll who took it reluctantly. As she read it over, the other man whose name was unknown slammed his tankard down heavily.

"What does Mercer think he's playing at? He's only a boy!" he protested.

"You were newly initiated I take it. A prodigy," Maven continued, ignoring her son. Hemming shook his head returning to his drink. Alodie nodded though he winced at the word "prodigy" that had been used around him for the billionth time.

"Yes, but I'm no prodigy. That's just what they call me," he said. Maven sat back at this in wonderment holding her chin as she examined the Imperial.

"Modest I see. Fair enough." She looked over to Hemming who was still enjoying his drink. "Can you leave? We have important business to discuss."

Hemming slammed his drink down for the second time and met his mother's cold eyes who were unwavering at her proclaimed order. Whatever Maven wanted, she got and he knew better than to argue with her. Seeing that his mother didn't trust him with business though struck at his heart like a spear. He thought that his mother could rely on him with such things but apparently not. Standing, Hemming headed towards a staircase in the far corner of the room shoving forcefully past a few innocent servants finishing their rounds.

Maven sighed. Maul stood uncomfortably along with Alodie who simply glared after the rich Nord. She paused to stare at the buff Nord beside Alod who turned his questioning eyes to his master.

She waved him away while Maul stood there, surprised.

"But—" he started but was cut off by a swipe of Maven's hand in the air.

"I will be fine, Maul. I do have ways of defending myself," she reassured him. When Maul frowned, bowing his way out of the room, Alodie felt as if a dagger had been pulled out from his side – deadly yet comforting. He wanted his discussion with Maven to go by as quickly as possible.

He looked the woman who owned most of Riften over. Her stringy dark hair was peppered with grey strands and her face, though still young enough, accumulated a few wrinkles and blemishes. She was old yet at the same time didn't appear to be. She obviously had found some way to make herself appear much younger. She wore a dark red woolen overcoat with dark silks from Elsywer underneath, a belt holding a ceremonial looking axe at her side. Her mouth never held a smile and her aurora gave off a similar "don't mess with me" look that Mercer had.

Alodie knew that this woman was dangerous. He was playing with untested destruction magic and knew that this wouldn't end well. Maven, however, continued to give off a fake welcoming vibe.

"Go on, sit. This might be awhile," she said motioning to a chair across from her. Alodie prayed that it wouldn't. Sitting, he tried to look over the extremely rare goat to Maven's towering figure yet he still found himself being squished beneath. Fidgeting quickly, he placed his hands over the table signaling that she could trust him. Maven, however, didn't seem to notice.

"I asked Mercer to bring you here for another matter concerning Honningbrew," she started sipping at, surprisingly, a sort of tea and not her own mead. Alodie felt like rolling his eyes though controlled himself enough not to. He was pretty sure that Maven was watching his every move. Maven noticed his scrunched up face and placed her tea down. "Is there something wrong?" she asked patronizingly.

Alodie tried to hide his disgust through a half-attempt at fawning. "Your name is known throughout Riften," he replied. Maven's face – that had been frozen until then – broke out into a sneer, her shoulders shaking slightly from held back laughter.

"Are you actually trying to _flatter_ me, Imperial? I thought you thieves were supposed to be smarter than this," she said shaking her head. "_Of course_ I'm known throughout Riften, I almost own the entire bloody town for Dibella's sake. And don't tell me it was through my own luck that I came to such wealth. Hard work and dedication got me into my station and no amount of _flattery_ would change my opinion of anyone, especially one such as _you_."

_Well, _that_ was _definitely_ a good start_, Alodie thought bitterly. Biting his tongue to hold back the many profanities he wanted to throw at the woman, he sat back in his chair and thought on how he could turn the situation back to his favor. After all, that was what his race was known for – an Imperial could convince a suicidal man not to jump – or so they say. But that wasn't him unfortunately. The man would probably jump before he could even say anything.

But he was a spy for the Empire – or was one. He knew how to deal with people and get the information he wanted. So, he waited for Maven to continue after her initial rant.

"I will ignore what you just said for both time and my sake. What I want for you _should_ be simple. And if you fail, I will take your Guild into account," she started, folding her fingers together. Alodie noticed that she wanted to get down to business. "I want to take Honningbrew off the face of Nirn. They've become nothing but a nuisance to me and to have them extinguished would take a lot off my plate. But I don't want them to know that I'm planning anything," she started. Her tea remained cold and forgotten in her stream of words as Alodie waited for her to go on. "An Imperial in Whiterun named Mallus Maccius might be the key. Both he and I have a common interest – to destroy Honningbrew. I want you to meet him the Bannered Mare with my seal. What he tells you to do are my orders unless he demands you to betray me which then you have my permission to kill him," she said simply.

He found the amount of information thrown at him was immense and tried to process what exactly Maven wanted him to do. He was going to help a stranger get Honningbrew because of, what, a petty rivalry? He didn't even know what he was doing exactly! And apparently even Maven didn't trust the man he was going to take his mission from. What point was there?

Maven, seeing the young Imperial before her frown in disbelief, sat forward threateningly, glaring at him with her dark eyes. "Do you have any questions?" she asked as if he did have any he shouldn't voice them. He didn't waver at the power hungry Nord and instead took her question seriously.

"Why does Mallus want to destroy Honningbrew?" he asked honestly. She nodded at the question, ignoring his defiance.

"The owner, Sabjorn , is a cruel and vile man who will get his grimy little fingers on anything he wants in order to increase his position in Skyrim." _Unlike someone I know_, Alodie thought sardonically. Maven continued. "Maccius was betrayed by Sabjorn and became my spy after he contacted me directly. So far, he's told me of a third party who has been funding Honningbrew. I want you to find who that third party happens to be."

It seemed simple enough but he was pretty sure there was a catch. Maven ignored Alodie's suspicious glance before waving at him.

"This meeting is over. You have my orders," she said. Alodie didn't stand, however.

"I have one more question for you," he said. Maven's eyes narrowed at the Imperial's defiance. He was either stupid or couldn't hear worth kwama larva. She sat forward again preparing to use her own intimidating glare to force him away.

"You do not have until the end of the Fourth Era, boy," she muttered darkly. Alodie nodded quickly though tried to force Maven's dangerous glare away from him.

"I—what did you do to Mjoll?" he asked quickly as if ripping out a dagger. Maven gave the man before her a curious yet suspicious stare. Mjoll the Lioness was the single thorn in the grass that kept bothering her incessantly and at random times. If she hadn't stopped the Nord then she could've had a full scale rebellion on her hands.

And yet, why did this young man care about the innocently charged Mjoll the Lioness? Was he a spy? She wouldn't be surprised if the Thieves Guild had their share of moles, this Imperial before her most likely being one. She held her head up on the table trying to gage who exactly Alodie was. She decided that telling him wouldn't really hurt anyone.

"I've locked her up like the criminal that she is. She's been nothing but a thorn on my side for months. The Jarl is perfectly fine with holding her imprisoned forever," she said diplomatically. Alodie held his breath. "No one escapes Riften after they screw up my meadery. I will not stand for defiance and that includes you. Now, I believe we're done."

_Forever_? Mjoll was going to be locked up in there for good? Alodie's normally apathetic eyes turned feral at Maven's words and stood almost taking the table with him.

"We have nothing further to discuss," he said with finality. He hoped to never see Maven's disgusting face ever again. Not after what he was going to do. Slamming the door behind him, Maul jumped startled at the Imperial's anger and barely noticed him marching away with quick steps. Maul quickly went inside the dining hall to check on his master.

Maven considered the Imperial that had just left her and smiled. He actually challenged her openly. It was such a rare thing that she almost felt like laughing. Alodie was a circle among diamonds – he didn't seem to fit with the rest. And this… fascinated her.

Maul grew anxious at the meadery owner's silence. "Are you okay?" he asked hurriedly. As he stood pale faced before her, Maven rolled her eyes and took a drink of her now cold tea.

"I'm fine you fool," she said. And her expression was one that Maul never found on Maven's face. An enormous, pleased toothy grin. Maul had never been afraid of Maven before… yet that grin was a very scary thing to see indeed.

* * *

**Wow, I've already written seven (plus prologue) chapters 0_0. And next chapter we'll finally get out of Riften (feels like it's been forever)! I decided that as long as people keep on reading…I'll keep writing :) Next chapter will be the end of "part one" of the story and we'll finally get into the meat of things! So, keep watching for chapter eight. **

_Hinode~Dawn_


	9. Escape from Riften

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_"Well, well. Aren't we the overachiever. Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances..."_

-Astrid

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Escape from Riften**

For Skyrim, winter started early and lasted longer. The snow settled prematurely along with the biting winds that were normally found in the mountains. The 3rd of Heartfire was when the first snow flurries began to fall in the Rift a time that was supposed to be late summer. And Alodie hated it.

As advised by Brynjolf, he took a week break preparing for his journey to Whiterun. He normally wouldn't have listened to the preposterous proposition of a _break_ but he had to agree that he was tired after Goldenglow and Maven's antics. He spent the time, however, improving his archery and increasing his combat skills. Throughout the week, he noticed that Vex avoided him like a plague not to mention that he felt himself being watched at random times during the day. Mercer also seemed to avoid him for some reason. He wondered if the Guild Master was actually jealous that he got a job from Maven directly. He wasn't entirely sure on that theory though.

Pacing silently on one of Riften's many bridges he ignored the many stares from the passerby and concentrated on figuring out his plan to rescue Mjoll. He lifted his hood when the wind was blowing too much snow into his face, shivering slightly from the late "summer" breeze. The evening was approaching slowly along with his plan.

Without even noticing the people he passed as he paced the bridges, he ran into a small figure, stepping back.

"Sorry—" he began.

"_You_," was all the Imperial said. Alodie looked down to see Aerin, Mjoll's friend. He frowned as he saw the small man's angered expression turn feral. "What are you doing here?" he asked with spite. Alodie was not afraid of the small Imperial.

"I think that I can walk wherever I want, Aerin," he muttered softly before attempting to walk past. Aerin didn't move however.

"I think you owe me an explanation like – I don't know – what have you been doing this past week? Are you actually _hiding_?" Alodie took offense to this and bristled like an alerted hound. It wasn't as if Aerin was trying to do anything to help Mjoll so did he really have to blame him for not attempting to try yet? Actually, yeah, he probably did.

Shaking his head, he frowned apologetically as he felt a large welt of guilt. Aerin saw his hurt face and smiled coyly. "Yeah, and you should feel that way. You are nothing but a coward."

"I'm rescuing Mjoll. Tonight," he said with a straight face. The weak Imperial frowned slightly at Alodie's proclamation. He hadn't expected the shady Imperial to actually help Mjoll, after all he was a part of the Thieves Guild now. What was in it for him?

Aerin shook his head stepping back. The wind blew the light flurries into Alodie, the cold biting his face. "It's too late. Mjoll can't be rescued now," he said. Alodie felt like laughing in the Imperial's face.

"Of course she can. I'm thinking of the plan right now. I've been waiting for the perfect time all week," he said. Snow can cover tracks that could lead Mjoll back in prison. Today was a better day then tomorrow when the snow would likely stop. Aerin didn't see the reason in this however.

"What are you going to do then? And what about me, I will always stay with Mjoll no matter where she goes." _Are you that crazy for Mjoll that you would actually risk yourself to simply follow her? _Alodie only felt like laughing again.

But it was true that he still had no means of transportation. Normally he would have bought a horse for himself and Mjoll but he didn't have the money for that, his 400 gold sitting securely in the Thieves Guild hideout gathering dust. He did buy a few medical supplies for the journey ahead and he was pretty sure that he was secure on the rations since Vekel already promised to give him some with a bit of his gold.

Getting a carriage would be too risky, it could easily be stopped by guards and they would have an entire new mess on their hands. So, he found a use for Aerin.

"Fine, if you want to help then do you have any horses?" he asked. Aerin shook his head but glance over to his house.

"I don't but I could probably get some," he said. Alodie nodded enthusiastically. There was one problem solved.

"Good, then I want you to buy three that you can afford and meet us at the southern gates at midnight. Don't be late." Before he could leave satisfied, Aerin shook his head turning around to face the sly Imperial.

"No, no, no. I'm only buying Mjoll and I a horse. I'm not wasting my money on you. Go steal it or something." Alodie's mouth shot open as he heard the Imperial's ridicules protest. Was the man serious? He would rather let him steal his own horse then buy it legitimately? Aerin was defiantly testing his patience and wondered if taking him along would only spell trouble along the way. He felt that Mjoll would be able to control him though.

Knowing that there was no reasoning with him, Alodie shrugged.

"Fine, I'll manage." After all, he did deserve it. Walking away from the Imperial, he headed towards the stables prepared to find a horse then quietly lead it away. Hopefully no one would notice…

* * *

Windhelm was bursting with joy as Ulfric Stormcloak, the leader of the rebels, returned home at the head of hundreds of soldiers. It was as if a makeshift parade had suddenly appeared from nowhere across the large stone bridge over the frozen White River. People gathered, happiness on most but not all of their faces as Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak arrived on a dark stead followed by Ralof and many others.

Ulfric, however, was not happy at all.

While his people rejoiced at how he had survived the Imperial scum, he frowned at his humiliation among the Greybeards. He felt like shouting out words of power for no reason at all. Maybe simply to spite them. Spite them _all_. When the Dragonborn did show up, he would find any flaws he could just to spite them. He wasn't perfect, they weren't perfect, and so _he_ wasn't perfect.

He would obviously respect him, Talos after all was a Dragonborn. But now that these dragons have appeared, he was powerless to defeat any of them and had to rely on someone he didn't even know. Only a dragonborn could truly kill a dragon. And he wasn't one.

Snow billowed fiercely into Nordic, Dunmeri, and Argonian faces. This snow storm came seemingly out of nowhere, winter beginning sooner than he expected. Season Unending. He was sure that death would soon follow.

His war with the Empire made his people tired. It made _him_ tired, though he didn't like to admit it. Raids on Thane forts, ambushes from the road on new recruits, sabotage within the ranks – the Imperial's would stop at nothing to see this Civil War end. And it wouldn't until he sat upon the High King's throne instead of that puppet, Elisif. Although loved by the people she did nothing to help Skyrim's religious problems – Talos was still banned to worship throughout Skyrim. Maybe that was why the dragons returned, the ghost of Tiber Septim gave them life again. So, it was still the cowardly Empire's fault for running away from their problems.

He breathed out a plume of warm air as he made his way to the Palace of Kings. Most of the people – all Nords most likely – fawned over him as if he had already become the High King. Ralof himself grinned at the attention and waved at the people while Ulfric remained stone faced. His Jarl was definitely angry over what happen at the Throat of the World and he guessed that he would get into a fit as soon as they got off of their horses. He didn't want to be around when that happened.

As Ralof left Ulfric who didn't even seem to bother looking at him, he headed towards the Candlehearth Hall in search for a strong drink after what he had been through. The sun was setting upon the celebrating city, the cold Heartfire day becoming even colder. It was hard to believe that it had been two months since he set foot inside the old walls of Windhelm.

As Ralof thought this, an old woman passed him an ominous warning as she hung a poster on the wooden boards of the Hall. "Beware the Butcher, Stormcloak! Beware!" Ralof smirked slyly at the woman while shaking his head wondering what in all of the Oblivion planes has gotten into these people. Well, he really had no room to say anything, not that he was any less crazy.

He stepped inside the warm tavern and was greeted by another blue armored soldier, his friend Tokar. The brown haired Nord raised his ale at his arrival and laughed once, the inn keeper giving him a dirty look.

"And here comes the walking dead!" he cried out chugging his ale. Ralof laughed fondly, sitting next to his friend. He and Tokar came from Whiterun hold so they instantly made a connection. Ralof never truly regretted leaving Riverwood to join the Stormcloaks but home was what he truly missed. Tokar was just another piece of home, his accent, his customs, all of it. Though the two had separated after the attack at Darkwater.

"How is the ale my friend?" he asked, smiling. Tokar shook his head, spilling his ale obviously drunk as most of the people were in the tavern. Ralof put a few coins on the table and was instantly met with his own tankard.

"Not good, friend. Not good." Tokar took another chug but spit it out when he started choking on the beverage. Coughing and laughing, the dark haired Nord slammed his tankard down in a drunken fit. "It's so expensive now Ralof! Remember the good old days?" he chuckled. "Of course you do, it was only a few years ago after all. And now you're almost a general!"

Ralof nodded at this and looked at his dark ale, trying to remember the day he signed up. Gerdur had applauded him along with her husband Hod but he had lost his old friend that day to the Imperial bastards. Hadvar.

He had grown up with that bastard, hell they were like _brothers_. And in response to him joining the Stormcloaks, Hadvar joined the Imperials. How could such a trivial thing tear them apart? The Imperials were the enemies! _They_ were the traitors! Thinking about it only set him into a rage, emptying his mug in half a second. Tovar seemed to applaud him.

"Go at it my friend, you deserve it," he said. "You know, I heard about your capture at Darkwater. Bad business there. But a dragon of all things going to rescue your sorry hide?" He snickered. "Impossible!"

Ralof paused looking up to his friend. "There really was a dragon, Tokar." At this, his blue armored friend grew serious and slowly put his tankard down on the bar. Before his friend could comment on that, the sound of a lute strumming came from above. Ralof smiled. "Come on friend, we need a bit of song to lift our spirits," he said. Tokar, completely forgetting what Ralof just told him, nodded quickly downing the rest of his ale.

"To Ulfric!" he shouted followed by a few others who echoed his call. Ralof, strangely, was not among them.

Following Ralof, Tokar struggled up the stairs before collapsing completely at the top. Knowing that his friend was down for good, Ralof lifted him against the wall patting his head as if he was a small pup. "Did good right there you did," he muttered to his unconscious friend.

Before he could continue on, a song sung by a Nord bard caused him to stop in his tracks as if the Greybeards themselves shouted at him.

"Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart,

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes,

With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art,

Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes."

Her voice caused most in the room to drunkenly sing along while he simply stood there like an idiot. He didn't know why but he felt that what she sang was true. If the Dragonborn wasn't Ulfric then someone else was coming. He just didn't know who or what.

"It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes,

Beware, beware the Dragonborn comes,

For the darkness has past and the legend yet grows,

You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn's come."

As the song continued he shook his head. The people knew that this dragon problem was a call for the end times. They shouldn't have any hope yet he did. He only hoped that it wouldn't be too late. When the song finished the drunken Nords hooted with a drunken laughter as they all hoped for the future. One however, was not so hopeful.

"All the Dragonborns are dead. They aren't coming to save us!" a stout Nord yelled spilling a bit of his mead. A few people nodded with him as the Bard shrugged.

"That's simply a song I heard. I don't make things up," she said. The Nords in the room laughed while a few who didn't know what the Dragonborn was remained in the dark.

"Are you talking about the Septims? They're all dead!" One Imperial shouted. Ralof went to stare at the scholarly Imperial who was suddenly the center of attention. Knowing that his drunken state caused him to burst out unknowingly, he muttered a small curse before returning to his drink. Everyone else though didn't simply disregard it.

"The Septims weren't the only Dragonborns you idiot," shouted the stout Nord. The Imperial huffed as if the discussion was over. "_Imperials_," he muttered. "Think the world revolves them and their little 'Emperor.' Just wait until Ulfric becomes the new Dragonborn then shows who is truly meant for the High King's throne." The Imperial, clearly angered at the statement, stood.

"_What was that_?" he yelled.

Seeing that this was his time to leave, he went out into the blizzard, the cold night emptying out of the second floor exits. Looking over his shoulder to his prone friend who would sleep during the entire brawl, he sighed and bowed a quick apology, heading towards the barracks.

That was when he saw the body. Before him was a crowd of people surrounding a naked body of a poor Nord woman. Since he was a Stormcloak, he easily made his way past the witnesses to this crime and walked up to the body.

An Arkay priest muttered a few prayers, a few swirls of magicka leaving her brittle hands. Another Stormcloak stood at attention when he saw Ralof, seeing his badges of office. The body itself didn't look as if it had been mishandled except for the gaping hole in the woman's spine.

_A butcher_, was the only thing that came to mind.

* * *

The Riften prisons were silent as the night grew, the snow turning into a small blizzard that covered the fall forest in a thin blanket of snow. Unsurprisingly, the jails held numerous amounts of convicts both guilty and innocent of their crimes. One such was Mjoll the Lioness and no matter what, Alodie would free her. After all, this was his entire fault and it's not like the Guild had to know anything about her jail break.

Remembering his silent promise to the warrior, he made his way past a sleeping guard – either the place was too lax or they just didn't care about escapees anymore. Either way, he cracked the door open and marched through as if he knew exactly what he was doing – which he didn't. Apparently, he was convincing enough to walk right past a wine-colored guard oblivious to the clear break of security.

He passed many people – some beggars other murderers – and tried to ignore their calls to him. He cared only about one prisoner and one prisoner alone.

In the corner of her cell sat Mjoll, defeated and alone. Her eyes lifted when she noticed a dark hooded figure approach her cell and glared at the intruder.

"What do you want? You know I'm not in a really great mood—"

Alod took off his hood to reveal his features and at that, Mjoll relaxed. She hadn't expected the Imperial to show up but it was better than nothing. "What are you doing here?" she asked. He grasped the handle to her cage firmly and glanced around him checking to see if no one would spy him. Bending down, Alodie produced a single lockpick and began to jab at the lock. Mjoll stood quickly.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, worried. Alodie only grunted a response as he twisted the two lockpicks trying to unlock the door. The task proved to be difficult and Alodie was tempted to go and find a key. So, standing, he pocketed his lockpicks and began heading towards the sleeping guard once more. "Wait!"

He paused and looked the Nord over in confusion. Her iron armor had completely disappeared along with her battle axe replaced with simple rags and her face appeared tight and worn as if she had aged inside her cell. Imprisonment was not doing Mjoll any good.

"I'm trying to get you out of here Mjoll," he responded, preparing to leave. The prisoner shook her head.

"You don't understand. My problems are my problems alone, Alodie. I can't rely on anyone but myself." At this, Alodie groaned deeply, rubbing his temple. This stubborn woman couldn't respect a simple rescue mission. Didn't she care at all about her personal safety?

Getting closer to the bars, he whispered low yet harshly. "Maven is going to have you in here for the rest of your days. Now, if you don't want to be a useless bag of flesh for the rest of your life, your best bet would be to leave Riften. For good." Mjoll didn't seem fazed at the proposition.

"You see? This is what Maven wants. It doesn't matter if I'm caged or released into the wilderness as long as I don't meddle in her 'business' then that's fine with her."

Alodie looked away from the Nord's determined eyes and glared at the decaying walls.

"You can't save Riften, Mjoll. Not when the city doesn't even want to save itself," he said. The words stung Mjoll like raging hornets. What he said was true and yet she…thought she could make it work. Save Riften from the animals infested within. It was the reason why she stayed in this miserable little town for three years. And yet… maybe someone else could do what even she could not.

She stared hard into Alodie's avoiding eyes. "Then you save it." He looked over to the prisoner in disbelief. He was a member of the Thieves Guild, he wasn't sure if that was even close to "saving" Riften. In actuality, he didn't really care about the town or its people. For now, it served him as the perfect hiding place for him and that was where he needed it to stay.

But for how long? He still had to save the Empire from total collapse and he couldn't save an unimportant town along with it. He turned rapidly as Mjoll held her breath for an answer. She never truly got one as he lifted his hood and walked towards the prone guard.

The guard's helmet lay on the floor, his hand resting carefully on the top of it. Alodie spied multiple keys on his belt and glanced around to see if the other patrolling guards didn't notice him. He waited until she turned the next corner before sticking his hand lightly on the belt, loosening the keys. The Nord snorted loudly, mumbling something before turning in his chair, moving his hand off of his helmet. Smirking, Alodie headed towards Mjoll's cell once again.

The Nord warrior glared at Alodie as he unlocked the cage.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," he whispered. He raised his hand for her to take but she remained still, refusing the gesturer. The Imperial groaned, lowering his hand. "Mjoll, you're being unreasonable."

"I still haven't gotten my answer."

Alodie couldn't believe this woman. "Fine, I'll save Riften. Now let's go."

Mjoll didn't believe in the Imperial's tone as he said those words. She took a step back as she still refused to follow him. Alodie felt like screaming. "What is it that you want now?" he asked harshly. She shook her head at the impatience of Alodie. Could she believe him? Maybe he could change the Thieves Guild maybe he couldn't but she still wasn't sure if she could leave.

"Hey, what about me you bastard!" he heard another man call out from behind. Alodie turned to face the opposite cell seeing a well-dressed man fuming behind him. _Great, even more trouble_, he thought bitterly. He went up quickly to the bars of Sibbi's prison and grabbed his coat from the bars pulling him closer. The Nord shook visibly.

"Raise your voice one more time," he threatened. The warning turned out to be useless as a guard sauntered in after hearing Sibbi's voice, gasping as she found the cell door unlocked.

"What do you think you're—?"

She was cut short by Alodie's knife cutting off her vocal cords followed by her life. Mjoll's eyes budged out of their sockets as the guard slumped to the ground, dead. Sibbi made no more attempts to scream or even speak for that matter only moving his mouth back and forth like a hammer. Alod ignored him, turning to Mjoll again. He opened the door to her prison a bit wider.

"What in Oblivion—?" she started. Alodie ignored the statement and instead grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. She strangely didn't find herself resisting the murderer and instead followed his lead. Sibbi made himself complexly disappear after the death of the Riften guard.

As they went down the hall, Alodie stopped to peer inside another room which held a surmountable amount of weapons. He spotted a similar battleaxe that Mjoll had before and threw it to her. She barely caught the weapon though, the axe clanging to the ground. Alodie noticed this and came closer to the Nord, close enough to be almost breathing on her.

She hadn't noticed it before but the Imperial before her was at least a few inches shorter than her almost in a comical way. His eyes, however, betrayed his size almost as if they themselves were a dagger ready to pierce their prey.

"Do you _want_ to kill us?" he asked darkly.

She wasn't treating this seriously she realized as her grey eyes hardened. She had no choice but to follow the Imperial now, wherever he went.

Seeing her grave eyes, Alodie moved to the armor racks going through them. He was surprised at the low security of the place but he had a feeling that it was due to the fact that the prisoners _had_ to stay. Either Black-Briar blackmailed them or something else. It was obvious that no one was worried of any runaways though.

He grabbed a guard's uniform that could fit the Nord and threw that at her as well. Seeing the plan formulating in his mind, she nodded pulling the chainmail over her head and putting the guard's helmet on. She wouldn't be surprised if a few Thieves Guild members had already tried this sort of thing once or twice.

Alodie nodded when she finished and glanced out of the armory. Seeing no one rise in alarm to the dead guard down the hall, he headed towards the exit with Mjoll in tow, shaking her head. He really had a lot to answer for.

Disguised as a guard, their escape would be more then easy but before they could simply walk out, the guard that had been asleep woke up as the door opened. Seeing Alodie first he sat up quickly.

"What do you think you're doing in there?" he asked. Alodie, prepared to kill again, reached for his sword. Mjoll, seeing the quick action, held his shoulder tightly and responded to the guard in a lazy tone.

"He's supposed to be here," she said. Alodie went to glare at Mjoll but the warrior completely ignored him. Releasing his grip on his sword, he played along.

"Of course," he said.

The guard, not that altogether convinced, shrugged and returned to his chair.

"Whatever, I don't care," he said. "I only hope you didn't mess with the prisoners."

"I made sure he didn't," Mjoll responded. Alodie rolled his eyes at the irony before making his way down the hall followed by Mjoll. The guard shook his head at the weird pair before returning back blissfully to his dreams of Sovngarde.

* * *

Marcurio sighed, kicking a rock as he walked by Lake Honrich's banks. He was definitely down on his luck in gold and his dream of becoming a rich and famous wizard back in Cyrodiil was all but crushed in this pathetic town. If only he had a group of people to lead him on his hunt for both adventure and riches! But these stupid Nords didn't know what "adventure" was. He sniffed the air once before noticing three horses outside of Riften and a nervous looking Imperial beside them.

He smiled. Where there were horses, there were travelers and where there were travelers, there was adventure. Aerin, seeing the strange wizard glared at the man hostilely underneath the two moons light.

"Who are you?" Aerin asked. The wizard bowed perfectly as if he was going to perform a trick of some sort.

"My name is Marcurio and for 300 septims you could have yourself a powerful friend in these coming dark times. _300 septims_! Don't tell me that's a bad price my good—" Before he could finish his sales pitch, two figures dropped from above, one clumsily landing on her back. The guards outside the gates didn't seem even bothered.

Alodie stood glancing at Aerin and the new person who made himself known. _That wizard from before_, he thought, _what does he want now_? Marcurio studied the guard who stood up quickly to glare at him and wondered in what world did the shady Imperial become friends with the local authority. Neither Mjoll nor Aerin knew the man but the wizard definitely recognized Alodie.

"Well, would you look what the horker dragged in?" he started, smiling. Alodie ignored the wizard and went to check on the horses. The one he stole, a whitish-brown mare, had no saddle but it would make do for now. Pointing to the other two horses, both Aerin and Mjoll tightened their saddles before lifting themselves onto their steads. Marcurio blanched at this.

"Are you actually leaving me behind _again_?" he asked in shock. Alodie glanced at the wizard and sighed. He didn't need or want another person to tag along for the ride but this wizard seemed to be as stubborn as an angry bull.

He looked over to Mjoll who shrugged. She wondered who exactly the Imperial was and how Alod came to know him but she guessed that those questions would have to be answered later. Getting onto his stolen horse, Alodie sighed wondering how he could chase the rogue wizard away.

"I told you that I didn't need your help," he said. Marcurio smiled, holding his hip with one hand while showing his right. A small wisp of fire came protruding from his hand as he looked at him proudly.

"With a master of magic at your side, you'll have nothing to worry about," he said. Alodie felt like laughing at the wizards face before the fire in his hand suddenly grew. Soon, Marcurio's entire face was blocked by a roaring flame the size of a camp fire. He yelped sharply before waving his hand in the air trying to put the fire out. The three before him only stared after him as he just proved himself wrong. "W-well, _almost_ master of magic. I still can control most of my spells," he said, laughing nervously. Alodie wasn't convinced.

"The only reason I would let you come is if you make yourself useful," he said. Marcurio nodded three times as both Mjoll and Aerin glared at the wizard.

"My destruction magic is ahead of its time. No wizard is able to produce the amount of ice and fire I, Marcurio, am able to produce. I'm a living legend so you have to –"

"Alright, good. Start by carrying this," Alodie said, throwing a few bags at the proud wizard. Marcurio frowned deeply yet before he could protest, Alodie began to move away down the road followed by Aerin and Mjoll. The wizard turned a bright red.

"I am an apprenticed wizard – not a pack mule!" he yelled after them. Alodie rolled his eyes as they led their horses down the snowy road, the evening growing until the moons cast their light high above them, a blue glow reflecting off the waters. Mjoll sighed and came up to Alodie who was far ahead of the pair.

"You know he's still following us, right?" she asked. Alodie nodded but didn't respond completely. Mjoll shook her head before taking the helmet off. "Who is he?" she asked him.

"Just some annoying mercenary," he replied before continuing, eyes fixed on the side of the road. She looked to see the wizard trailing behind them but close enough to Aerin to still be within shouting distance. Aerin remained silent though was rejoicing at Mjoll's appearance. He knew though that now was not the time to be striking up a friendly conversation – they were still, after all, in the Rift.

Mjoll saw the struggling Imperial and frowned. "Can't he ride with Aerin? I mean, it probably wouldn't hurt…" she said. Alodie sighed heavily before fixing his eye onto her own dark ones, the white snow illuminating her pale face.

"I don't really care," he said. He stopped his horse with a light tap of his heel and was surprised to see the mare respond quickly. It was obviously well trained. Aerin, confused, stopped his horse along with Mjoll who looked over her friend in a pleading way. Marcurio smiled as the troop stopped, placing the heavy bags roughly onto the thin layer of snow. The three all stared at the wizard who breathed heavily never having to run so hard in his life. Alodie glanced at Mjoll, waiting for her to make the offer but she didn't so instead he went to look at Aerin. Aerin himself was still confused as to why they stopped.

Marcurio, on the other hand, thought they stopped for another reason. "Admit it, you were lost without me!" he said through shallow breathes. "'Oh, which way do I go?' you are thinking, 'I wonder if Marcurio knows, after all he's pretty smart.' Because I am, of cour—"

"Do you want to ride with one of us or not?" Alodie said attempting to stop the wizard's incessant talking. Marcurio, smiling, put the bags he was holding on Aerin's horse causing him to move back slightly in disgust. Mjoll suddenly regretted ever suggesting the kind act of letting the Imperial ride with them.

"So you actually want me to come along?" he began, "Surprise, surprise! I will make sure you will not regret your decision," he said. Aerin narrowed his eyes.

"We really should keep moving…" he said. However, the wizard completely talked over him causing his anger to only rise.

"In case you didn't know, my name is Marcurio. Just Marcurio," he said holding out a hand. Seeing that no one was close enough or willing enough to shake his hand, he put it down slowly. Alodie, obviously want to get a move on, glared at the man.

"And why are you following us?" he asked. Marcurio only laughed causing the saddle beneath Aerin to rock slightly.

"Are you kidding? Because Riften is _boring_. Didn't I already explain this to you?" he asked, leaning on Aerin's chestnut horse. Mjoll looked over to his suffering friend and smiled a small apology to him only gaining a small glare that wasn't directed at her. Alodie, the supposed "leader" now, continued to glare at the wizard.

"Yes, you did and yes it's still stupid," he said. Shaking his head, Alodie turned around to face the road again. They only were able to make their way past Goldenglow and at this rate it would take them _weeks_ before they reached Whiterun. He studied the path to Whiterun on the Thieves Guild's map realizing that the fastest way there was through the way he had come.

"Where are we going, Alod?" Mjoll asked from beside him. A few light flurries still made their way from above as he contemplated his plan.

"Whiterun," he said simply returning his attention back to the road. He didn't want to have to explain his mission to Mjoll nor did he want to bring up the Thieves Guild not when she still had so much hate for it. The Nord warrior thought that the place was right in terms of hiding from Maven but she doubted that it would be truly safe. Whiterun hold was neutral meaning that both Imperial and Stormcloak soldiers could entrench upon the land. Although the Jarl defiantly disliked it, he couldn't stop it. She could only pray that they didn't run into any war parties, she didn't want to get involved with this stupid Civil war. So, she nodded once before returning her own focus to the lake.

Intending to completely bypass Helgen in order to not remind himself or endanger himself, he decided on going through Riverwood, a small minor settlement in a mountain pass, instead. Hopefully they would reach there in a few days' time.

Well, not with this annoying thing following them.

"Would it be foolish to stop for a while and light a fire?" the wizard asked after climbing on Aerin's horse directly behind the poor man. Flinching when he drove the horse onward, Marcurio realized the uncomfortable state of riding with another person and wished to stop after only about an hour's ride.

Alodie growled deeply and turned to glare at the wizard. Why did this man enjoy aggravating his very soul? Marcurio, seeing Alodie's anger, shrank back as if defending himself from outright battery. "I suppose, it would…" he answered himself though Aerin in front of him sighed.

"I agree, we should stop," he said. Alodie gave him a surprised look before shaking his head. The Riften guard could be out searching for them and instead of moving on and trying to escape the Rift, they were messing around. Mjoll didn't seem to care if they should either way.

"I don't think it would hurt, Alod," she said. "We've all had a rough day." Alodie couldn't believe these people. Half of the town guards were on a manhunt and no one was in the least bit worried? He knew that if he was caught with Mjoll, he would go in prison straight along with her and then who would save her?

He began to protest. "Do you know what they would do if they found you again? They would kill—"

The sound of a released arrow interrupted him, jerking as it hit him from behind. His eyes widened as pain flooded his shoulder, his teeth tightening. He gripped the horse's neck like a life line, the horse moving quickly from its rider's sudden movements. Mjoll's mouth gaped as she reached over to hold Alodie up who was about to fall over. Both Aerin and Marcurio remained speechless.

Through blurry eyes, Alodie saw a dark figure in the trees moving to draw the bow again. Glad that Mjoll was able to hold him steady before he went crashing to the ground, he glared at his attacker in the trees.

Mjoll saw the figure and immediately knew that they had tried to kill Alodie. Another arrow flew by as the dark figure almost twenty meters away fired again at the injured Imperial. She moved him quickly and instead the arrow was sent straight into the lake.

Marcurio, his face now serious, jumped off Aerin's horse lifting his hands to produce a hot branch of fire. The figure, seeing the magicka from behind its target, drew its attention to the new attacker drawing the bow again.

Before the assassin could shoot another arrow, Marcurio's flames became even more solid and burst from his hands like a torrent of water intent to burn the assassin to a crisp. The figure ducked and exposed himself to the road, the trees going up in flames. Seeing the mess he made, Marcurio put the flames out with a single flick of his wrist and ran towards the assassin.

Meanwhile, Mjoll led both her and Alodie's horse away from the road and into the tree line out of the assassin's range. She looked at the black arrow stuck in Alodie's left shoulder blade and cringed at the wound. She got off her horse quickly and went to lift the Imperial off of the white now blood stained horse. He twitched in pain as he was lowered slowly off of the horse.

Knowing that she wouldn't be able to lay him down properly without breaking the arrow, she gazed into Alodie's now dark brown eyes as if asking him. Knowing that she had to, he nodded and braced himself. She bit her lip as she grabbed the end of the arrow and broke the shaft off causing Alodie to howl in pain.

"S-sorry," she muttered nervously. She hoped she hadn't damaged anything else.

The assassin, realizing that it still had a target to kill, ignored the crazy wizard and concentrated on Alodie. Seeing the assassin's break of concentration, Marcurio smiled and sent out a wave of electricity to their attacker. Rolling into the water, the assassin pulled out a few knives throwing them at the powerful wizard. Barely avoiding them, Marcurio smiled as he realized the position of the assassin and prepared for another attack.

"You aren't very smart, are you?" he taunted. The assassin laughed lightly, Marcurio noticing the tail of a Khajiit.

"Burning a forest down isn't my idea of _smart_," she said – the accent of a Khajiit quite clear. Marcurio, looking down at the depths of Lake Honrich, aimed his next spell at the Khajiit who easily ducked the attack. However, it wasn't in Marcurio's mind to hit the Khajiit assassin in the first place.

The water suddenly lit as if sparked and suddenly the assassin cried out in pain, falling into the small puddle with a thud. He shook his head quickly while Aerin watched on, astounded. "At least I know electricity travels through water you fool," he said before smiling.

Mjoll breathed a quick sigh of relief as she saw the assassin fall before turning her attention back to Alodie. She already set out a bed roll and laid the injured Imperial on it gently. Alod was surprisingly still conscious and flung out a few curses before lying down.

He did not look good, Mjoll summarized. His forehead was clammy and his skin was pale. She had a bad feeling that the arrow had been tipped with poison. Alodie realized that his vision was darkening and knew that he wouldn't stay up for long.

"I knew that this would happen," he muttered softly. Mjoll found his words strange but instead of asking him about it, pushed him softly so that he would lie down.

"I wouldn't talk," she said. Alodie laughed though not for long. He obviously wasn't lucid enough to be speaking. It must have been poison. She searched through her pack to try and find a potion of some sort to combat the toxins until she realized that neither Alodie nor Aerin were alchemists of any kind. But maybe the wizard had something.

Marcurio bent down to the dark armored assassin and realized that she was still alive. Lifting her shoulders, he found a metal symbol of a hand on her hood along with even more daggers in her side pockets. The wizard glanced over his shoulder to see Aerin standing over him motionlessly. He pointed his thumb towards Mjoll and Alodie.

"You might want to go and help your friend," he said. Aerin didn't move.

"She's of the Dark Brotherhood, isn't she?" he said. Marcurio shook his head, smiling.

"I thought that was pretty obvious," he said. The wizard hadn't expected adventure to strike them so suddenly and not in the form of an assassin. He obviously made the right choice of following Alodie and his crew. He did wonder what the other Imperial did to enrage someone but maybe it wasn't his place to ask since the man might not even get out of this alive.

Taking a long rope from one of the packs he had been carrying, he brought the Khajiit over to the makeshift camp Mjoll made and tied the assassin to the tree casting a paralysis spell on her just in case.

Seeing the assassin set Mjoll on edge as she tried to work on Alodie who went from barely conscious to being completely deranged. She decided that she had to do something about the arrow. Alodie's eyes, half closed, suddenly widened as he sat up. Mjoll tried to push the Imperial back down. He collapsed with only a slight push. The wizard came over to help inspect the injured Imperial while Aerin stood nearby.

"He looks poisoned," Marcurio said. Mjoll rolled her eyes.

"Of course he is!" she bellowed. Marcurio flinched visibly as his eyebrows shot up.

"Wow, have some anger issues there?" he asked. Before she could shout anything back at the Imperial, Alodie suddenly bent over and coughed. She suddenly grew serious as she saw the deep red vomit and rushed to Alodie's side checking the arrow. She pulled the tip out softly but felt no protest from Alodie as she took it out. She gave it to the wizard to examine.

"Do you have an antidote for that?" she asked. Marcurio studied the black arrow tip and found that the poison was a rather rare mix of nightshade and nirnroot. He figured that making an antidote would take up most of his alchemical kit. As he was trying to decipher which ingredients he needed, he spotted Mjoll placing her hand above Alodie's wound. A quick light flickered from beneath her fingers before dissipating.

He tried to suppress a laugh. "Was that...some sort of healing spell?"

She turned to glare at the man who sat beside her.

"Shut up, at least I'm doing something," she said. Marcurio rolled his eyes before returning his attention to the arrow. He looked over to Aerin who for some reason avoided the who deal.

"Want to go get me a few buckets of water, kid?" he asked. Aerin sneered at the name and decided he would best be doing something useful.

Mjoll put Alodie on his back and noticed that his eyes were open again, except that they were bright and moved at random intervals. She breathed out; worried that she wouldn't be able to save him. Although the jerk was the cause for her imprisonment, at least he had the honor to help her escape. She would never just let someone like that die.

His eyes suddenly locked onto hers as she wiped his forehead with a wet cloth knowing that it was useless anyway. She stopped looking into his hurt yet… happy eyes? He smiled softly.

"Eiruki…" he muttered. His eyes then fluttered closed into a deep sleep. Mjoll brushed a few strands of hair from his hot forehead and wondered who this Eiruki was. A lover maybe? Her eyes narrowed but she didn't think about it any further. She would ask him later.

**End of Part I: Unbound**


	10. Eyes of Fire

**Slave to Fate**

**Part II: Before the Storm**

* * *

"_A Nord's last thought, should be of home."_

Ralof

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Eyes of Fire**

To Alodie, the colors of white, orange and brown swirled in his view and he couldn't really make out any shapes of things. He felt like he was floating above the ground and yet knew his back lay upon snow. He knew that it was supposed to be cold and yet he felt extremely hot. The pain he was supposed to feel in his shoulder wasn't even there anymore.

He sat up, thinking he was alright, but one of the shapes forced him back to the ground. He didn't really have a choice but to obey.

He knew Mjoll was there he just wasn't sure which one was her. His head felt light and Alodie felt like emptying his stomach. He tasted a bitter taste as the bile filled his mouth and emptied onto the once pure white snow.

After that, he couldn't much remember anything. He felt something being pulled from his back yet he didn't feel any pain. He didn't cry out.

"Was that...some sort of healing spell?" he heard someone mutter from above him.

"Oh, shut up, at least I'm doing somethi—" That was Mjoll's voice. Or was it his sister's? He smiled looking into his sister's eyes.

"Eiruki…" he muttered. He could see her now, smiling as he told her of the latest mission's success and as more food was able to be put onto the table. His older sister's dark curls moved as she frowned knowing how dangerous such a job was, knowing that Alodie could get himself killed if he didn't stop. And maybe it did?

And then he remembered _that day_.

He still smelled the smoke, the flames. He heard her calls but he couldn't save her, there was too much fire, too much smoke, too much…

A shot of pain suddenly erupted from him as he felt his cloak being peeled off along with his armor. The person assigned with the task flinched as he felt the burn of something in him but he wasn't exactly sure what. He heard a worried voice then his sister again.

He then saw her, dying. It pained him every time. Her hair, the once beautifully curly and dark, fell off like it was nothing. Her face aged in an instant, first turning red then wrinkled. He remembered screaming yet not a sound left his mouth. She became ashes as he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

"It's my fault…" he whispered.

A dark dragon flew from above him as he stood in front of his burning house with the ashes of his sister already blown away. The dragon landed on the house and blew a small cloud of smoke, the darkness finally encasing them both.

"**Nii los hin dukaan," **it said.

He then saw the documents, the plans, _the enemies_. He cringed

"Shut up!" he yelled at the dragon. "Just shut up. Shut up!" The dragon laughed at him, mocked him. He felt so small, so alone. He was so powerless; he didn't have the power to do anything. He couldn't save his sister, so how could he save an Empire that didn't even want to save itself?

"**I see something in you. Strange, why do I keep seeing this joor, this mortal's, dreams?**" it said. It sniffed at Alodie's hunched over body as he stared into the monster's eyes. The deep red eyes didn't seem have any life in them and yet Alodie was able to see the world in them as if he was staring into the face of a god.

The dark dragon laughed slightly before extending its wings. "**What is your name?" **it asked. Alodie lifted his head, his eyes still remembering his sister's death, still remembering the pain. Why didn't this creature just go away? He didn't want to have anything to do with the dragons. He wanted none of it.

"Go away," he whispered, knees still planted onto the ground.

"**Vomeyz? You **_**are**_** a strange one." **The dragon turned to look towards the White-Gold Tower which was a shadow upon the now burnt up home. It sighed. ** "Why would I leave when I am staadnau … free to do what I want? Do you not see your own freedom as well? What is stopping you?" **

Alodie's eyes turned livid as he waved his hands, pointing to the now devastated home. "I am not a free man. Don't you see, no matter what I do they'll be after me. My sister died for _nothing_!"

"**As I died for nothing," **it said. Alodie's face contorted into confusion. He had no idea why this dragon appeared in his dreams, the first time he thought it simply a nightmare. But now… something was…strange. The ice breathing one didn't speak his language for one.

Alodie then stood slowly trying to make out the dragon. "What are you?" he asked.

The dark dragon laughed softly, closing its red eyes before drawing itself closer to Alodie. The Imperial didn't flinch. "**Zu'u faal Leinnaak, fin drub se oblaan. Akatoshkiir."**

Alodie's eyes widened. He took a step back from the monstrosity and cast his eyes towards the Imperial City. He remembered seeing the Avatar of Akatosh in the Temple of the One so many years ago as a child. The tall temple held the statue of a giant dragon, Akatosh, the god of time.

He remembered an old man's words when he first came to Riften. What would you do if you knew the world was going to end?

And what would he do? What _could_ he do? _Nothing_.

The dark dragon then paused and looked into the mortal's eyes. He thought that there was something weird about him. He laughed again – knowing that he already knew.

"**I know what you are," **it said. The thing looked prepared to strike him, baring teeth. Alodie went to reach for his weapons but found them completely missing. He was defenseless. He jumped back as the dragon went on the attack, his feet planted in water. He suddenly felt his very soul being ripped out of him – almost as if his very thoughts were separating from his body – and screamed in pure terror.

And the scream turned into a shout.

The dark dragon's head flew back suddenly and laughed. "**You have no control, joor. You are nothing but a kiir – a child," **it taunted. Alodie had fallen to the ground after he almost had his very soul ripped from him. He had trouble standing again but he saw that the dragon was already flying away.

"Come back here!" he yelled to the sky. "Come back here you coward!"

Then, darkness.

"…"

Then, light.

* * *

The morning came quickly to the four plus one as Mjoll quickly looked over to Marcurio. He already finished the antidote, finding a few ingredients in the assassin's pouch that matched the posion. He began extracting an antidote as the moons began to set and finished with a successful "ah ha!" with the help of Aerin.

Marcurio smiled as he came over to the weak Imperial, handing Mjoll a bottle.

"This should definitely work and if not I'll be sure to give you a full refund," he said. Mjoll sat back a bit, looking at the clear bottle filled with a green substance. It didn't really look too good. She paused before glaring at the wizard.

"_Refund_? I thought that this would be free?" she said in disgust. Marcurio sighed, shaking his head.

"In a world where money rules everything, no – it's not _free_, precious."

Mjoll could not believe this man. After basically rescuing them by using his strangely powerful destruction magic skills he is _now_ demanding pay? How greedy was this bastard? How coldhearted could this man be when there was a dying patient right beside him?

Marcurio, finding something interesting on his fingernails, tapped his foot on the melting snow. "I'm waiting…" he said, waving the potion.

Mjoll growled before going through Alodie's pack spying a bag of gold underneath food and supplies. She tossed him the bag as he nodded his thanks. "Thank you my kind lady," he said throwing the antidote at her.

"And no thanks to you, mercenary bastard," she growled back. Marcurio didn't seem to take offense to that seeing how it was completely true.

She sat beside Alodie's ill form and put the tip of the bottle to his mouth letting the liquid run into his system. Before the antidote ran out, she turned him over to put the rest directly on the wound, unwrapping the dressings. After giving him the potion, his face seemed to clear up a bit and return to its normally tan state. She sighed in relief, falling back onto a tree, warming herself by the fire. Aerin sat by her on a stump and frowned seeing her exhausted state. The night had almost done her in tending to the deranged Alodie, he would sometimes cry out nonsense things in the night and Mjoll would always be there trying to comfort the man.

Aerin personally felt that the thief didn't deserve such treatment.

The small Imperial soon found the mercenary wizard sitting beside him, smiling. "You did good helping me kid. You might make yourself a fine healer or alchemist someday," he said. Aerin frowned.

"I'm sorry, but I remember being twenty seven years old and not a child thank you very much," he retorted. Marcurio paused then sighed, shaking his head.

"Gods, all of you are pretty damn obstinate aren't yah?" he said, scratching his dark pulled back hair. Aerin didn't really have much to say to him after that as he watched the wizard stand, heading towards the unconscious assassin.

The Khajiit still hadn't awaken and he was prepared to ask her questions once she did, one of them being why she wanted to kill Alodie. He bent over the cat, poking her once with his finger before going through her pockets. She had a note in one from someone called Astrid. Alodie's name was imprinted there along with his location in Riften. Not much else was on the note.

Digging further, he found another message addressed to a Quill. He opened it reading its contents.

"_You did well with the old woman Grelod but maybe you can prove yourself to be even more of use to me. Hopefully you recognize your next target. Kill him and I'll be sure that you aren't a spy for the Emperor. Astrid._"

Before he could inform Mjoll of its contents, the assassin stirred, growling deeply.

"Release me… you bastard…" she muttered. Mjoll heard a voice and looked over to see the assassin up. Aerin was about to hold his friend back but wasn't fast enough as she rushed over to the assassin, putting her foot on the Khajiit's shoulder. She sneered.

"Who are you and why did you try and kill Alodie," she demanded quickly from the feline. The assassin sat up a little in order to spit onto Mjoll's boots which caused the warrior to stiffen her hold on the assassin.

"Nothing that I would tell the likes of you," she muttered. The Khajiit sighed, moving her bound hands in circles trying to get loose but Marcurio would have none of that, freezing her body. She growled again, lashing her teeth. Mjoll knew this thing as nothing but an animal, a disgrace upon her own kind.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alodie cough once – probably from the disgusting antidote. She was surprised that the potion worked so well and so fast. Eyeing Marcurio, he shrugged, taking up watch of the Khajiit as Mjoll went to Alodie's side.

When Alodie awoke, he felt a small numbness on his shoulder a slight pull on his stomach that signaled hunger. Hatred from his dream still burned in his eyes as he saw Mjoll rush up to him, still in the Riften guard's armor. He sat up slightly but Mjoll still felt that he needed to rest and tried to push him back down. He frowned, shaking his head.

"I'm alright," he said, though he didn't really feel "alright." His stomach was still churning from whatever they gave him and his wound on his shoulder – although numb – still gave him trouble as he went to sit against the oak tree sighing. He had almost died, again. He hoped that he didn't make a habit of that.

Turning to face the commotion over Mjoll's shoulder, his eyes widened as he edged closer to the tree. What was _she_ doing here?

The assassin tried to move her head as she spotted her target rising, grinning with full teeth as he showed her fear, like he should. Not when her master was able to outright ruin his relationship with the Oculatus.

She opened her mouth, the only thing that wasn't frozen, to speak. "You've cheated death so many times, _traitor_," she said with the last word almost slapping him across the face. He sat up before noticing that his wound had completely disappeared – Marcurio probably gave him something. Mjoll, hearing the word traitor, sat up trying gauge the assassin.

"Traitor? What is she talking about?" she asked Alodie. The Imperial only remained silent.

Marcurio, puzzled, held up the note from Astrid, the wind picking it up as it fluttered in his hand.

"You're from the Dark Brotherhood aren't you? Murdered a poor Grelod in her sleep probably, the poor old lady. Too bad I wasn't around help," he said. The Khajiit laughed, trying to shake her head but failed.

"The old bitch got what she deserved. Not that many people wanted to stand up to her so the price for her actions was death. But that wasn't what we were talking about now, was it?"

"What are you doing here?" Alodie interrupted causing everyone to look directly at him. The Khajiit assassin made to shrug but faltered.

"Skyrim is a lovely place to be during this season what with the snow. I decided to pay a visit." None of them were prepared for Alodie to suddenly stand up and rush towards the Khajiit at a dangerous pace, limping. He grabbed her by the collar, jerking her up into a sitting position dangerously catching her bindings on the tree. She growled once in pain as he shook her like a doll, his face contorting into anger.

"You killed her!" he yelled at her. Everyone around him seemed only frozen to the scene before them. "You killed her! You are nothing but a pet to that monster," he cried out in anger. The Khajiit only laughed causing him to hit the assassin against the tree, her head gaining a large cut.

"Hey, Alodie are you—?" Before Mjoll could even place a hand on his shoulder, the angered Imperial lashed out hitting Mjoll's hand away. A glare from him was his warning to back off as he continued to "interrogate" the Khajiit who seemed to enjoy causing the Imperial before her so much strife. She laughed silently before a ripple of pain from the back of her head caused her to cough once, the warm liquid blotting on her fur.

"How someone like you could ruin anything confuses me. A traitor like you couldn't possibly do anything." Alodie stood, kicking the Khajiit hard in the stomach causing her to reel back. She had to admit, the kid could hit hard.

"I am not a traitor," he said almost in a whisper. He bent down lower as if doing so could implant such a truth into her mind. "I am _not_."

The whole camp grew silent as Alodie stared hard into the Khajiit's yellow eyes deciding whether he should kill her. Alodie, seeing that the Khajiit would only cause trouble, hit her head against the tree once again causing her reel back. He should kill the Khajiit but nothing would change if he did.

Aerin were still confused as to how Alodie even knew who his assassin was while Marcurio was soon growing bored with the entire thing. So, the young Alodie had a grudge on this assassin for one reason or another while the Khajiit thought that this entire thing was a game. He had to admit, it was something he hadn't seen in a while.

Yawning, Marcurio sat down, stretching. "I don't know about you, but I'm pretty bushed after spending the entire night trying to make an antidote to save – oh, I don't know – _you._ So…goodnight."

Mjoll gave the wizard below her an apathetic stare before her eyes met Aerin's who seemed just as tired. She didn't think it was a good idea to just sit around and play warriors and trolls however. She went over to Marcurio who was already dead to the world and picked up the water bucket beside him, soaking him with the cold water. He blubbered. "What in gods' names was that for, woman?"

Mjoll set the bucket down and grabbed a few bags, closing them. "Aerin's riding with me. You ride with the prisoner."

Marcurio seemed to want to protest before sighing, closing his mouth. He grinned. "Since you paid my fee recently, I suppose so."

"Your _fee_?" Mjoll sputtered in disbelief. Aerin rolled his eyes in disbelief as Marcurio stood, wiping the dirt off his orange colored robes.

"A monthly fee if you will. I expect my next payment to be a bit larger in size once we hit Frostfall though. 400 gold won't get me anywhere."

"You want _more_?" Mjoll stuttered. Marcurio crossed his arms, his face growing serious.

"Of course I want _more_. What do you expect? You want me to actually risk my life without any payment?"

Meanwhile, Alodie stepped away from the assassin as the Khajiit slowly lost consciousness from the hit to her head. As he heard the commotion from behind him, he silently put on his leather armor and cloak, heading towards his horse.

"Yes, actually. We didn't exactly pay you to help us with that assassin," Mjoll retorted.

Marcurio laughed slightly, shaking his head. "So, you mean you don't even know what a demonstration is? Are you that stupid? You need to know what I'm capable of before you pay for my services," he remarked.

Mjoll rolled her eyes. "_Right_. A demonstration."

Surprisingly, the horse didn't try to walk away from them as the night grew since without a harness and saddle they couldn't tie it down. Jumping fluidly on the animal, it reared back preparing itself for another journey.

Mjoll turned around quickly. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked. Alodie pretended not to hear her as he began to lead his horse out of the tree line, lifting his hood. Mjoll followed him, standing in front of his horse with determination. He frowned as he saw her unwavering eyes.

"Get out of the way, Mjoll," he said softly. He motioned to pull the bulky horse back with his hands and went around. Before he could continue onward, Mjoll grabbed his arm causing the horse to stop – its whinnies threatening the tall warrior. Alodie sighed with great annoyance, turning his face to the fugitive. "I'm going alone," he said.

Mjoll placed a hand on the horse as if trying to stop him from doing anything else. "So, you're going to abandon me and Aerin right after you decided that rescuing me was a good idea," she said. Alodie turned his face towards the sparkling lake as if contemplating throwing her in it. He shook his head realizing that the idea was stupid.

"My sense of honor is different than yours, Mjoll," he said coldly. "I don't make promises."

"But you promised that you would save Riften," she retorted quickly. He smirked almost in disbelief at the Nord's gullibility. She hadn't actually believed him, did she? Seeing his doubt, she frowned realizing that what he said were simply words and not a true oath. "I see…well then. I guess I'll just have to go back to Riften seeing as how no one is there to make sure Maven doesn't cause any trouble."

As she began to leave, Alodie's hand shot out grabbing her shoulder. "Don't," he said. Not after all of this trouble trying to free her. He knew that the warrior would've died in prison if he hadn't done anything and to see all of his plans fail because of this Nord's pride…

Mjoll turned around to stare at Alodie's gloved hand on her shoulder then looked up into his bright eyes.

"Then don't leave us," she said.

Marcurio and Aerin watched cautiously, seeing Alodie huff once before shaking his head slowly. The reason he wanted to leave was so that Mjoll and her friend didn't get into any more trouble because of him. And he didn't want any more distractions, he had to watch his back even more carefully now. At least, not until Mjoll was happily away from his life. Turning even more, he saw Marcurio and Aerin standing close by, the former leaning against a tree.

"Leaving already?" he asked. "Well, you just wasted 400 septims seeing as how I barely got to do anything," he muttered, his eyes disappointed._ It wouldn't be a waste if you left_, Alodie thought bitterly. _And wait…400—?_

He checked his bag, going through every pocket and looking under every object before glancing up at Marcurio. The wizard stood there whistling a small tune waving Alodie's bag of gold with one hand. _This bastard…_

Marcurio, seeing Alodie's dangerous glare, pocketed the septims with a small swipe of his hand and smiled. Alodie was fuming.

"Why do you have my money?" he asked as if demanding it back. The wizard shrugged, heading towards Aerin's horse.

"It just materialized into my hand. I have no idea why – maybe the gods favor me more then you perhaps?" Alodie highly doubted that. Aerin, seeing the wizard preparing his horse, decided to head towards Mjoll's dark one – placing supplies in the saddle bags and putting out the fire, a small trail of smoke rising.

Alodie realized that this unruly bunch was going to follow him no matter where he went and sighed deeply realizing that he couldn't run away, not this time. No matter how much he wanted to simply leave his problems behind, he found himself frozen in place unable to move as the three prepared to go.

Marcurio strapped the Khajiit onto his horse securely before climbing onto the chestnut. His ever-smiling face found Alodie's whose own face was masked by his hood. "Ready when you are chief!" he said, flashing teeth. Alodie shook his head, looking down the road.

"Don't call me that…"

Mjoll, realizing that Alodie wasn't trying to go anywhere anymore, helped Aerin with the water and food – packing it tight onto the horse before getting on it herself, her clinking guard's uniform still present. Aerin climbed on after her.

They were ready and for what Alodie wasn't sure. He edged his horse forward as they made their way underneath the cloudy sky. Before they went any further, Alodie heard a sharp call in the distance as if someone was reaching out to him. Seeing as how the rest of his group didn't hear it, he shrugged. _Probably just the wind…_

* * *

Traveling towards Riverwood went by quickly, faster than Alodie even anticipated. As they traveled their first day on the road, they already passed the Fall Forest and into Haemar's Pass in the mountains. Alodie kept a careful eye on their prisoner still not sure of what to do with her. He still wanted to kill her but he still remembered this Khajiit. She had been a friend, he had trusted her. And now look at what she's turned into. Although all of his instincts told him to kill her, he couldn't. Just...couldn't.

They made small talk as they rode, trying to pass the time. "That mountain right there," Mjoll said, pointing, "is High Hrothgar."

Marcurio rolled his eyes, tugging on the fastening of the prisoner. "Well, isn't that obvious?" he said. Mjoll didn't even move to glare at the Imperial knowing that he was going to start something again. She sighed in a hopeful way.

"I've always wanted to go up there and walk the 7,000 steps that Talos took to meet the Greybeards. It's been a childhood dream for me," she said. Alodie looked over his shoulder but didn't meet the Nord's eyes, still angry at her. Aerin sat behind her, pulling a fur coat over himself as the weather became fierce.

Marcurio scoffed. "Some dream you have there. I've already been there twice," he boasted. Mjoll closed her eyes shaking her head. This wizard was just impossible.

"Oh, really? Tell us what it was like then," she said.

Marcurio, seeing that he had put himself into a corner, shifted slightly in his saddle as they passed a large rock formation and shrugged.

"Well… It was a rather long journey – that's for sure. And it was pretty desolate as well…full of… religious people," he started off and rather poorly. Alodie doubted that the man ever went to this High Hrothgar in the first place though he wasn't really familiar with it himself. He glanced over to Mjoll with a curious stare. He wanted to ask her but his pride didn't really allow for him to speak at all. He was still angry they even decided to follow him.

Mjoll half caught Alodie's eyes before he turned away quickly. She sighed, pulling on the reins slightly as the ascended a steep hill. He was being such a child; she should be the one throwing a tantrum and not him. After all, he still had to answer her questions. One of them being why that assassin called him a traitor.

She wasn't one to pry in anyone's past though since she didn't really want people prying into hers. She had a bad feeling that Alodie's past would come to haunt him and anyone around him.

She wasn't afraid. Mjoll was never one to live in the past rather living in the present and anticipating the future. Alodie's past wasn't her business no matter how curious she was about it.

Aerin, on the other hand, wasn't too forgiving. As he rode behind Mjoll, he glared at Alodie as they finally cleared the hill. He was hiding something dangerous and he wondered why Mjoll even wanted the young man to come with them. He was nothing but trouble. Aerin was rather sure that he would get them killed someday.

Sighing, he knew that there was no convincing Mjoll – once she's decided on something there was no turning back.

Alodie pulled his cloak tighter over his body as a large gust of wind threatened his warmth escaping from him. Marcurio continued chattering on about his fake experiences on High Hrothgar mentioning a wench, an old hermit, and a ghost coming to haunt the living daylights out of them. Oh, and he ended up being the hero in that story, of course. Alod, tired of the road, noticed a small empty patch of land that could cover them from the wind. Stopping, he motioned wordlessly to the rest to make camp, jumping off of his horse.

Apparently, someone else had already been there.

The place looked to be a disaster; tents had flown back, burnt up wagons, roasted bodies of the dead. Aerin twitched at the sight as Alodie sighed_. I guess we aren't stopping here then,_ he thought preparing to get on his bare horse once again.

Before they could move on, Mjoll raised a hand. "Wait just a second here," she said. She led her horse forward as the wind picked up blowing her loose blond hair from her face. She studied a fallen flag of a roaring bear along with the Imperial red dragon both charred in different places. A battle.

"The war has been through here," she muttered, smelling the air. No smoke remained so the battle most likely occurred at least a few days ago but she was still worried. Aerin frowned, grasping Mjoll's shoulder.

"Don't Mjoll. We're not going after them," he muttered so that no one else could hear. Mjoll shook her head at the small Imperial's words.

"Of course not," she said after a brief pause.

Alodie looked among the remains and frowned. The war had not done Skyrim well, wasting unnecessary deaths, and separating fathers from sons. He took in a large breath before letting it out slowly, moving his horse towards the road again. It was none of his concern.

They soon found a small grove of evergreens on the side of the road and pitched camp as the sun set with four plus unconscious one finally at rest. Marcurio, after devouring his dried up meat, immediately slept on his mat like a baby. The prisoner was still unconscious and Alodie wasn't sure if he should be happy about that or frustrated.

After Aerin fell into a deep sleep, he and Mjoll remained staring into the roaring fire that Marcurio made. His eyes blinked as he almost went into a trance staring into the flames, the fire slowly burning a hole into the wood surrounded by dark ashes. The fire soon became that dragon's eyes and he jumped slightly when he heard Mjoll say something.

"What did you say?" he asked, a bit startled. Mjoll gave the young Imperial a strange look before repeating herself.

"I said, what are you thinking about?" she asked. Alodie sighed, stirring the fire removing the ashes.

"I'm not thinking about anything," he lied. He noticed a stray piece of dried meat and threw it into his mouth, chewing slowly. He didn't really want to talk about it, especially with Mjoll who he still considered a stranger.

Mjoll, realizing her subtle coxing for information failed, sighed – laying back against the tall tree beside her. Alodie was obviously lying but she didn't really want to push it seeing as how he was still pissed at her. She didn't really find any of this fair though.

She looked over to the assassin and decided to ask him an honest question. "So, what are we going to do with her?"

Alodie turned slightly towards her at the question before returning his attention the fire.

"I don't know. I want to kill her but I don't see how that's going to change anything," he said. He kicked the snow from under him in anger. "I'm still stuck here."

"So, what you said about Helgen is true?" she asked. Alodie turned his head fully towards her, smirking.

"You still don't believe me? Didn't you hear anything about that dragon at Goldenglow?" he asked in disbelief. He couldn't believe that the Nord was this oblivious. The dragon's roars were definitely heard in Riften and the news of Helgen should have already spread to the mead town. Well, that was unless news never spread among prisoners.

His worries turned out to be for naught as she shook her head quickly. "Of course I heard about Goldenglow…but I still can't believe that Helgen…" She sighed placing her head on the tree looking up into its branches. "I had friends living there." She closed her eyes softly before suddenly looking back towards Alodie. "Before the dragon attacked, did you hear of or see a Frieda?" she asked.

Alodie looked down into the flames again. He hadn't heard of anyone, he was stuck on a carriage heading towards his ultimate death at the hands of the headsman. He didn't have time to look up names. Shaking his head, he held his knees staring even harder into the flames imagining the buildings of Helgen collapsing.

"I'm sorry," he said. Mjoll smiled, shaking her head.

"No, no, that's alright," she said. "But shouldn't you at least recognize the name? She was the inn keeper. Had a little kid named Hammet. Nothing?" He didn't say anything in response. Mjoll soon grew angry as Alodie grew unresponsive. Why wasn't he answering her? What did she have to do, hit him over the head with her axe? Threaten his life? It was like she was interrogating him.

She suddenly realized she already went against her private promise to herself to not meddle, sighing. Alodie was a wall, pure and simple. There was no way she was getting through to him. They both laid in silence as the two dark moons rose above the mountains, Secunda only beginning to wax. Mjoll looked up into the sky.

"What was the dragon like?" she asked. "I mean, how big was it exactly?"

Alodie closed his eyes, remembering that day. "It was dark, like a shadow. It was almost big enough to crush a small Imperial tower and completely destroyed any homes it landed on. I barely escaped with my life," he said. Mjoll smiled as he began to speak. At least it was something. She paused before remembering something, a name that Alodie whispered as the poison had taken over him.

"And who's Eiruki? Was she with you when the attack happened?"

Alodie grew silent then, his hood shadowing his face from her. She suddenly knew that she had asked the wrong question. "I-I'm sorry to pry—"

"She was my sister," he responded quickly. He finished chewing his dry meat, spitting the rest into the still hot fire. Mjoll remained silent at the word "was" and decided not to ask anything else but instead, Alodie continued. "She was like a mother to me, raising me like I was her own child. I have a feeling she would be disappointed in me right now," he said. "And no, she wasn't at Helgen."

"Ah," Mjoll responded bluntly. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she cursed herself. Alodie sighed, trying to forget and yet talking about it almost made him feel a bit better about all of this – he was almost afraid that he would be alone for the rest of his days.

Mjoll felt as if she could relate to the man beside her, picking up a stick. Feeling a bit out of place, she decided to share her own story. "When I was a child, my village was burned to the ground by bandits," she started. She moved a stick slightly in the fire as she remembered her village in Falkreath hold as a small settlement by the lake. "Do you know I actually saw one laugh as he ran my brother through? The bastards..."

She threw the stick into the fire fiercely. Alodie glanced over his shoulder to stare straight into Mjoll's eyes, seeing the pain in reliving her own brother's death. She had been young then and hadn't known much about her brother but she remembered loving him dearly. "My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps as a hunter, but I set my aspirations a bit higher. I became a warrior aspiring for the mead halls of Sovngarde. He never complained..." She trailed off, remembering her father's last words to her as he died of a disease they couldn't afford to cure.

"_Have honor within you always my little lioness. Do not become hungry with riches and fame like the others." _She remembered him smiling. "_Adventure on your own terms."_

"I miss him…" she muttered. Alodie saw Mjoll's eyes glitter with unshed tears as she bowed her head. She suddenly sat up. "I've never been a sellsword like that fool over there... Never traded my skills for pay." She looked towards the new moon of Masser wondering if her father was watching her. "I've always adventured on my own terms."

Alodie wasn't like her at all, always following orders from his superiors, hoping that the next mission would put food on Eiruki's table… he felt like telling her but the words never came to his lips.

His thoughts were interrupted by Mjoll. "Want to take the first watch?" she asked. He nodded once as he stared off into the almost pitch black night.

And maybe he was like her, in a way. He shook his head as the fire began to die away, probably Marcurio calling the spell back on accident in his sleep.

He couldn't adventure on his own terms. He was a slave to fate as that dragon put it. A pawn.

As the smoke began rising from the fire and Mjoll began to sleep, he wondered.

"Maybe I can."

* * *

**Nii los hin dukaan** – It is your dishonor.

**Vomeyz **– Do not come. (close enough – literally un-come which isn't a word -_-; I tried)

**Staadnau** - Unbound

**Zu'u faal Leinnaak, fin drub se oblaan. Akatoshkiir – **I am the World-Eater, the bringer of the end times. Akatosh's child. (again, close enough)

**Hope you guys are enjoying this as much as I am! I already have a few background stories planned for uninspiring characters like Marcurio (who we really don't know much about) and Aerin (who is just bland in the game). I'm expanding on Mjoll as well and Alodie's past is definitely going to be revealed throughout the story (also have a plan - don't worry, I'm not just making it up as I go along. Well...sometimes I am _')**

**Remember to review! (I see you right there - yeah you who's reading this unimportant sentence)**

_Hinode~Dawn_


	11. The Sleeping Giant

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_"Do not bow to the yoke of a false emperor. Be true to your blood, to your homeland."_  
―Nords Arise!

* * *

**Chapter Ten: The Sleeping Giant**

The sign of the Sleeping Giant Inn blew slowly as the late summer winds of Skyrim passed over the small town of Riverwood. The small flurries that made their way down the night before chilled Orgnar down to the bone when normally he was used to Skyrim's weather. Seeing a few of the local drunks ask him for a drink, he sighed deeply realizing that they were running out.

The guards came to Riverwood about a week ago ordered by their Jarl to protect them from any dragon attacks from the south. The bar keep was never one to get worried, but this whole dragon deal in Helgen wasn't good for business. Not that he really wanted any.

As Sven continued drooling out some soppy love song, Orgnar peered down towards the cellar where Delphine was spending a bit too long in. He knew that the woman wasn't very good at keeping an inn but he didn't know she was this bad.

As he saw a few guards and locals dancing and "singing" to Sven's song, he called down. "What is taking so long, Delphine? I have half of the customers up here demanding for more," he said. The reply was of silence.

His permanent grimace only stretching further, he slapped the wet cloth he had onto the bar and began his decent down into the dank wine cellar praying to the gods that no one decided to cause a mess up there while he was gone.

He immediately saw Delphine beside a few mead barrels messing with the stone wall on the southern end. She held her chin in puzzlement as she stared at the loose brick before her. The blond Breton shook her head once trying to put the stone back in before jumping as Orgnar walked beside her, grabbing her knife.

"Hey, hey, it's just me," he reassured her. Delphine, frustrated, returned to the brick again fumbling with it in her hands.

"It's not enough Orgnar. If I'm not too careful, everything we've ever hoped for will be ruined. I just can't…" She thrust the stone back into the wall, the light from the hole finally dimmed. "I can't hide anymore. I'm just not like that."

Orgnar sighed, sitting beside her, holding her shoulder in comfort. "You've been in hiding for almost thirty years now, Delphine. They aren't going to come, not here. Not ever."

She frowned before her mouth tugged up slightly as she stood, flexing her arms. She knew Orgnar was right and yet she knew that the day would come soon enough when the Thalmor would find her. She was able to escape before, many years ago when she felt that she could. But sitting too long in the Sleeping Giant Inn caused her to be just that, a sleeping giant. And now that old man has proven himself right. The dragons have returned.

She had to plan ahead. She knew the Dragonborn would make himself or herself known someday and the Greybeards would be among the first to call out to him. She needed to know more about these dragons, like where did they come from. She had a bad feeling that this was the Thalmor's doing. Who else wanted the world to end?

She stood, wiping her apron of the mildew, facing Orgnar. "I know. I just…have this feeling that…things won't be going our way anymore."

The bar tender nodded, grabbing a few drinks from the stands. He remembered when he first met her; he had been persecuted by the Thalmor for worshipping Talos and was on his way to be executed when Delphine showed up. She was like fire, swirling about the elves like a tornado before diving in head first into the skirmish. She was fighting for her very survival and yet her blood thirsty attitude towards the Altmer couldn't even be compared.

She had been angry. She still was angry. Her very home had been torn away from her just as his was. The Thalmor didn't spare his family; they didn't pause to hear their whimpers for mercy. So, he joined her side, hoping beyond hope to exact his revenge on them with her.

She was smart, he knew that. They could hide in the Summerset Isles and they still wouldn't be able to find her. And yet, she was doubting herself and in turn doubting him. He frowned as they both made their way back up to the ground floor. Surprisingly, the song was still going on with Sven making up drunken lyrics on the spot. Alvor, the town smith, shook his head at the drunken bard returning to his own mead in sorrow, probably over his nephew.

After a half hour of merrymaking, someone suddenly burst in – an old lady by the looks of her. She pointed back towards the door she came in from, shouting. "A dragon! I saw a dragon! It was as big as the mountain and black as night! It flew right over the barrow!" she shouted. Sven along with the rest of the people in the inn stopped. Delphine checked her knife while Orgnar peered under the counter to see his axe.

Sven sighed putting down his lute. "What is it now mother? You know I'm trying to work here," he said. A few men chuckled at the estranged old woman while the guards found themselves shivering in their boots. They knew why they were there.

"Why don't you believe me? I saw it with my own two eyes!"

"Yeah, well…did you hear it with your own two ears as well? Actually, I've just about had enough with you and your fantasies," Sven retorted. A few drunks laughed and nodded beside him while the guards remained serious before realizing the rest on watch would have seen something like a dragon flying over the Nordic tomb and returned to their drinks. The old woman was still persistent.

"You'll see! You'll see when it decides to come down from its mountain and kill us all!" she shouted. Delphine sighed realizing that they were dealing with the local paranoid woman. Orgnar, for a second, had been worried that a dragon was going to attack Riverwood. They would all be dead then.

Sven was not pleased. "Can you please quiet down mother? Everyone in town will think you're crazy."

"Because she is," someone jabbed. Sven narrowed his eyes at a bearded drunk Nord who was quite a regular at the Sleeping Giant. Sven sighed, picking up his lute again.

"Just…go away mother," he muttered. When the old lady – angry that no one believed her – left, business went back to normal. Orgnar glanced over to Delphine who leaned against the bar like she didn't have a job to do.

"You think there's a dragon up there?" he asked her. Without turning to face the Nord, she nodded once looking off towards the merriment of the Sleeping Giant.

"Without a doubt."

* * *

Quill groaned as she felt herself waking, the early morning cold, and her fur not giving her enough warmth. She felt the restraints on her wrists behind her back and cursed in her language. She was dead to the Dark Brotherhood now, captured.

She knew that she had to kill her target that slept uneasily across from her but that wizard was awake. He could easily freeze her again.

She went slowly so that she didn't distract the wizard, grabbing a hidden knife in her boot. _These fools,_ she thought as she cut her bindings. She would try and kill Alodie again, just not now. Not when the wizard fool was watching her.

Marcurio, still upset after Aerin woke him up from a pleasant dream about becoming the Arch-Mage, sighed as dawn was about to come. Soon though, he felt himself drifting back to a deep sleep – he was sure that nothing would attack them anyway. Yawning, he situated himself beside a log and decided to take a quick nap.

Quill smiled.

After waiting at least an hour for the Imperial to go into a deep sleep, she had second thoughts about leaving Alodie alive. He was right there, sleeping. To take his life would only be an easy thing.

Taking her knife, standing, she placed her agile feet gently onto the snow – glancing at both Mjoll and Aerin to make sure they weren't awake. Seeing that, that was the case, she edged herself towards her target, licking her furry lips. It was only a matter of time before she stood right beside him – gazing down onto his unconscious form. She took aim at his heart before her target suddenly jumped up, slamming her down onto the ground.

Alodie had sensed a presence above him as he slowly awoke and first gathered that Marcurio had fallen asleep again. _Figures_. Seeing the glint of a dagger, he tackled the Khajiit to the ground trying to wrestle the knife from her grasp. She groaned as Alodie soon overpowered her and knew that she couldn't get out of this alive, not like the last time.

The entire camp had awoken then and Quill knew that she was dead. She had to take evasive actions.

Alodie's eyes were bloodthirsty, intent on killing the Khajiit once and for all. Mjoll stood quickly as she saw Quill head-butt Alodie cleanly in the nose. He released his grip and the Khajiit was soon back on him with her knife, slashing towards his throat. He ducked, still holding his nose combatting coming tears while a light swirl of magicka entered his hand when Mjoll appeared, kicking the Khajiit in the stomach. Surprisingly, Marcurio was still asleep during this entire incident.

Winded, Quill stood, backing up towards the rode. Spotting what was Marcurio's horse, she rushed quickly towards the unsaddled stead with Alodie in toe.

"Alodie!" Mjoll called after him but he didn't respond. Quill noticed the Imperial behind her and growled as she cut the rope the horse was tied to – the animal braying in panic. He would not let her escape, not now, not ever. She would die before then.

Spotting the Khajiit's discarded bow, he took it up and quickly strung it. Quill smirked as she noticed the Imperial stopping. They would never catch her now. She frowned when she saw Alodie take aim, placing an arrow to the string. She tried to edge the horse forward but it took the chestnut awhile before galloping forward.

Alodie held his breath, narrowing his eyes remembering the advice Niruin gave him as he practiced with the Wood Elf before leaving. "_Use your heart, not your brain. The arrow will always hit its target then."_

He wasn't sure if it was a stroke of luck but when he released the dark arrow into the sky, it hit the assassin's leg as she rode away. She growled deeply as she realized that she forgot her own bow and looked behind her as she rode south.

Astrid would be angry but Quill doubted that the Guild Leader would kill her. She was important. Useful. The Dark Brotherhood was dying and any past rules were meaningless. She would plan for the Imperial's death another day and there was nothing Astrid could do about it.

When Alodie realized he hadn't killed the Khajiit, he threw the bow down in anger, shaking his head. He hadn't stopped her and now she had been set loose in Skyrim to cause even more harm. He didn't know why exactly Quill wanted to kill him but he had a pretty good idea.

He turned around to glare at the wizard who had now just opened his eyes as the sun began to break the horizon. Marcurio looked up to see Alodie's angry form. He jumped.

"Get out," Alodie threatened. The wizard, still confused, looked over to Mjoll who was holding her head as if she was going to fall over. Aerin was glaring straight at him. Picking up a bag, Alodie pointed towards the road. "_Leave_," he said. Marcurio, not truly worried for himself, stretched bumping into the bag. The young Imperial threw the bag next to the wizard.

"Why? What did I miss?" he asked. Mjoll covered her entire face with her hand. This was not going to end well.

Alodie clenched his hand into a fist. This fool of a wizard let the one and only person he wanted dead to escape. He was a useless bag of flesh and he was tempted to throw many profanities at the mage but instead held his tongue. He simmered in his anger, kicking the bag before walking away towards the fire – dumping water onto the flames. Marcurio looked towards Mjoll in confusion before noticing that their little prisoner was missing. "Oh…" he muttered. He really messed up this time, didn't he?

He stood as Alodie began preparing to leave. "Look, you don't need to pay me next month as my apology," he said. The Imperial acted as if he didn't exist, stuffing left over provisions into his bag. "Actually, I won't need payment at all until that assassin is dead. How's that?"

"Marcurio…" Mjoll muttered. She had a bad feeling that the wizard was rubbing salt on an open wound trying to apologize to Alodie. Aerin felt the same way.

Alodie, seeing that no one was moving to pick up camp, glared at the two a warning before standing heading towards his horse. Mjoll and Aerin began to pack hurriedly. Alodie looked up at the wizard who was standing awkwardly in his way before shoving him aside. Marcurio scratched his head.

"I-I'm sorry?" Never has he seen someone this upset with him. And if the Nords in Riften weren't enough. Was Alodie just not a morning person? Had bad breath? A poor disposition? He was pretty sure Mehrunes Dagon joked around more than this guy. Hadn't he apologized? Wasn't that enough?

Mjoll came up to Marcurio and patted him on the shoulder, already used to Alodie's childish behavior. She actually felt a bit sorry for him, seeing as how Alodie would probably never let Marcurio ride with him now that his horse was gone. As she thought this, Alodie grabbed the saddle that the Khajiit left behind and strapped it onto his horse. Marcurio frowned.

"I mean… no harm done righ—?"

"Just shut it you fool," Mjoll injected. He hadn't spoken a word after that.

* * *

Although Alodie wanted to throw the wizard out of their little group, Marcurio continued to follow them as the once three now two horses traveled west. Either he had great determination or a foolish man's spirit – he wasn't sure. He just wanted him to go away.

Mjoll stopped her horse for a second time as Marcurio bent over breathing in deeply. "Just…slow…down…a little…please?" he huffed. The warrior looked down at the wizard pathetically while Aerin simply looked up at Mjoll in confusion. This was the second time she showed pity for someone who didn't deserve it. What was wrong with her?

Hearing Mjoll's horse stop, Alodie groaned loudly. Mjoll had a big heart and indeed took mercy on others but she was wasting time not worth spending. They were almost to Riverwood, probably even get there by late evening, and he was not in the mood to spend another night underneath the stars. He turned to glare at the warrior.

"Why are we stopping?" he asked as if he had no idea why. He knew it was because Marcurio was lagging behind. Mjoll turned to glare at Alodie.

"You are nothing but a child, you know that?" she said, holding her reins tightly. Marcurio looked up and laughed.

"No, no! I'm…fine," he coughed again in agony. He hated running. So much.

Alodie was not offended by Mjoll's comment. If he was a child then he was must have had one messed up childhood. Mjoll narrowed her eyes. "Can't you at least pretend to get along with everyone else? What, you think the world revolves around you?" she shouted, her hand whitening. Aerin glared at Alodie.

The young Imperial rolled his eyes. Mjoll was definitely over reacting. "The world revolves around me? The damned fool almost got me killed!" he protested. Mjoll's horse shifted slightly as she tugged a bit on her reins in pure anger. She really didn't want to defend Marcurio for his stupid mistake but that's what it was – a mistake. Alodie had gone too far.

Marcurio raised his hand in protest, still bent over. "Not voluntarily I assure you," he muttered but went completely unheard. Mjoll snorted.

"And yet he saved your life just the other day," she shot back. Alodie's mouth twitched as what she said had been true. Without Marcurio's antidote, he would have been a dead man. But he wasn't one to admit his mistakes.

"And?" he began. "Nothing has changed now that she's out on the loose. I might as well already be dead." Mjoll found this statement curious and was about to ask him about it before she realized Alodie was trying to change the subject. She smirked. _This cheeky bastard…_

Aerin sighed as the two began to fight, once again. The first time hadn't gone well and Alodie hadn't even tried to argue the last time. The frail Imperial knew now that Mjoll was pissed off. And he didn't want to see Mjoll angry.

"Can't we just go? We are wasting precious time," Aerin said. Mjoll looked over her shoulder to the Imperial who sat before her. She suddenly got an idea.

"We are not moving until the mage rides with us," she said, grinning. Alodie narrowed his eyes, glancing over to Marcurio who was still bent over from exhaustion. When he was an assassin for the Emperor, failure was never an option. And this wizard made the foolish mistake of sleeping on watch. Who was stupid enough to sleep on watch? Failures always came with punishments and he felt as if this was only a fair reprimand.

But… he wasn't a part of the Oculatus anymore.

Knowing that Alodie would not stand down until he won, Mjoll got off her horse. Aerin sat up. "What are you doing Mjoll?" he asked worriedly. She smiled as she came up to the wizard, arm extended.

"You really got yourself into a mess you fool," she said. Marcurio looked up and into Mjoll's eyes. He glanced over towards Alodie who was as solid as a statue, thinking over what he could do about him. The mage smiled.

"Wow, I really misjudged you, Mjoll. I thought you were just a brainless barbarian with no heart," Marcurio remarked, grabbing the warrior's hand. Mjoll narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah… get on the horse before I change my mind," she said. Aerin glowered. Great, the big oaf was going to take Mjoll's spot. If he had to be honest with himself, he would rather stab his own eyes out.

Alodie looked back at the warrior in curiosity. Was this Nord really that foolishly selfless to give her own spot on a horse to a mage – and one she despised as well? He was starting to think that this warrior didn't have any sense of self-preservation left in her.

Marcurio jumped on the horse joyfully causing the saddle to rock. The horse wasn't too pleased about the new rider at all, shaking its mane angrily as if making to glare at the mage. Marcurio didn't seem to notice.

Mjoll remained and began to stretch after the long ride. Alodie blinked once, looking straight into Mjoll's eyes. She didn't return the glare.

"How are you going to ride?" Alodie asked. Mjoll looked up and smiled waving her hand.

"I'm not going to ride." she responded, cracking her knuckles. "I'll walk." Alodie shook his head, holding his temple. _This woman…_

Alodie lead his horse forward followed by Aerin. Leaving the mountain pass behind, they made their way into the valley below only six hours away from Riverwood at Alodie's best guess. The nagging feeling that Helgen was only a few miles to the Southwest was always present however and it was hard not to feel anxious. They continued on without stopping and surprisingly Mjoll was able to keep pace.

Marcurio glared at the Nord. "Getting tired?" he asked jeeringly. His pride was definitely hurt the way Mjoll hadn't even broken a sweat yet. Now he looked like a little weakling.

Mjoll smiled giving the mage a thumbs up. "Nope," she responded. Aerin glanced back at her, worried. He knew that she was tired; after all, they had been riding for over two hours now. No one could jog at a straight pace for that long and not feel tired. Aerin felt that she was pushing herself again; she was going back to her reckless self before Mzinchaleft. And it was this Imperial's fault. Alodie didn't even seem fazed by Mjoll's sacrifice. The self-absorbed ass. He should be the one walking, not Mjoll.

In truth, Alodie was gradually growing guilty about the whole thing. He would look over his shoulder when he felt Mjoll wasn't looking to see if the Nord was alright. He was surprised that she hadn't called for them to stop yet.

Mjoll, however, did notice Alodie's shrewd looks towards her and it only fueled her quest to make the Imperial feel remorseful for once. She would make him open up somehow and this was the only way she knew how to do it.

She did feel tired though.

As they rode down a steep hill, she felt as if her legs couldn't hold her continuous stride anymore and Aerin's horse soon grew farther away in distance. She found herself still on top of the hill, walking at a slow pace. Aerin stopped his horse.

"Mjoll, are you—?"

"I'm alright, keep going," she said, waving weakly towards them. Marcurio smiled as the Nord finally stopped. _Took her long enough_, he thought. Alodie stopped is horse then, glancing back at Mjoll.

He exhaled deeply.

Mjoll suddenly found a horse beside her and looked up to see Alodie's outstretched hand. She narrowed her eyes, seeing how he was going to get out of this.

"Get on," he said. She shook her head, still determined to give Alodie a guilt trip. She would walk until her feet fell off. Aerin was pretty sure she would too.

"I'm fine, Alodie," she said, looking his arm up and down. The offer to ride on a horse really didn't sound too bad though, her feet were killing her. _No_, she thought, _I will not lose to him_. Alodie sensed Mjoll's bravado and frowned, letting go of the reins.

"What do you want me to do, Mjoll?" he asked. He didn't even feel angry over it anymore. This was his way of apologizing and she wasn't even taking it? What was wrong with her? Mjoll shook her head, holding her temple.

"Keep going? I don't know. Whiterun isn't getting any closer now, is it?" she retorted. Alodie's forehead scrunched up and went to grab her hand that was still on her head. "What are you—?" He took her arm with both hands and pulled up causing Mjoll to stumble slightly.

Seeing no way out of it, she placed her foot on the stirrup quickly before she could fall over and climbed on behind Alodie who was silent. She frowned. "What in gods names was that for?" she said. Alodie moved past Aerin who was confused over the entire event. He thought the Imperial had stopped caring about them…

Alodie didn't turn when he responded. "We aren't going to 'keep going' with you straggling behind."

They continued down the road as Mjoll slowly frowned. He wasn't guilty about this at all, was he?

* * *

They made it to Riverwood around midnight; most of the small logging town was asleep when the four made their way past its wooden walls. Riverwood was like miniature version of Riften, Aerin thought as Alodie and Mjoll both got of the horse. Aerin and Marcurio followed soundlessly – the wizard strangely not making any conversation along the way. He was probably afraid of Alodie.

The young ex-spy led the white horse by the reins slowly as a few flurries drifted down from the sky. Seeing an inn, he handed the reins to Mjoll.

"Try and find a stable while I get us some rooms," he ordered. Mjoll glanced back at Marcurio and Aerin who were already beginning to unpack the saddle bags. Alodie paused before thinking of something else. "And try and see if you can get two more horses as well." He didn't want the same argument to occur when they rode to Whiterun again in the morning.

Mjoll nodded wordlessly, still a bit frustrated with Alodie's attitude. She didn't want to start another fight though, at least not now.

As Mjoll lead the white horse away, Alodie enter the Sleeping Giant, turning the bronze handle with barely any force. Hopefully they had enough rooms available.

The Sleeping Giant Inn was definitely not asleep as its namesake prescribed, a bard strummed merrily on his lute and a few Whiterun guards lifted their tankards in an out-of-tune melody. A large fire was in the middle of the stone floor, the wood fresh in the fire and a pig roasting above the flames.

Many stopped to stare at the stranger since it was rare for anybody to visit the small town of Riverwood. Alodie frowned. _I don't look too suspicious, right_? He thought worriedly. Realizing that his cowl was still up and he probably looked like death, he took the hood off as a few people tried to return to their games but still kept the stranger in their peripheral vision.

Alodie, hoping to secure a few rooms, headed towards the bar – the tavern keep giving him a dangerous glare. How paranoid were these people? Wasn't it normal for travelers to stop at an inn in the middle of the night?

He sat down at the bar while the Nord continued to give him a deadly look. Alodie looked away from the bar keep's eyes, confused. Before he could speak, a voice from a large room beside him called out.

"Orgnar," a Breton woman said, coming out of the room. Delphine had noticed that there was less of a commotion upstairs and was worried that a stranger had actually come to Riverwood. She hated strangers – there was always the chance that one of them could be a spy. When she glanced at the dark haired Imperial who looked towards her now, she got that very vibe. She stiffened.

"Orgnar, are you listening to me?" she called out a bit louder.

"Yeah?" Orgnar responded, cleaning the bar slowly still glaring at the stranger. Alodie still didn't make to talk in fear that they would try to kick him out. This Orgnar appeared to either hate Imperials or despise strangers, he wasn't sure.

The Breton crossed her arms. "The ale's gone bad, we're going to have to get a fresh batch," she said. Alodie wasn't interested in the inn's shortage of ale and only wanted to get a few rooms. He didn't want to interrupt them though. Alod was starting to get a bit uncomfortable at the Nord's glares. Maybe there was another inn around town? Orgnar nodded, still staring at Alodie.

"Yep, the ale's gone bad," he responded and knew that it was Delphine's way of saying "I'm going out for a bit and don't kill anyone while I'm gone."

"Good, at least you don't have any potatoes in your ears," she said. The Imperial that sat at the bar turned to look at her as she tried to suppress a glare. She couldn't leave until this stranger made his whereabouts elsewhere. Who was this mysterious man? He definitely looked travel worn.

Before Orgnar could respond, the Imperial threw a small bag of gold onto the counter.

"I need four beds for the night," he said. Orgnar's eyebrows shot up. Four strangers? He narrowed his eyes. If they were all High Elves, he would kill them all. Shaking his head, he pointed to the Breton.

"If you want rooms, give your gold to Delphine. She'll set you up." Alodie finally glanced over towards Delphine who went to glare at Orgnar. _Way to hand your problems over to me_, she thought. The tall light blond Breton sighed, grabbing the bag on the bar. Just as she was going to lead him to the rooms down the hall, an Imperial mage walked in, stretching.

"Now this is what I was paid for!" Marcurio said grinning, holding his hands out to the fire. Mjoll walked in behind the mage along with Aerin. Sven along with a few others looked up at the three and began to relax a bit more. The Imperial that first walked in hadn't been very pleasant looking but his companions definitely were. Mjoll noticed that most of the people in the tavern were Nords and that there were very few others. She spotted Alodie beside a frowning innkeeper and smirked.

Delphine wasn't too happy with the company, however, as she opened the hall doorway. She would make sure Orgnar guarded her room before she left. Mjoll decided to follow Alodie and the innkeeper down the hall but not before noticing the bar keep glaring at her. Shrugging, she waved for Aerin to stay behind and make sure Marcurio didn't get into any trouble.

There weren't that many rooms in the Sleeping Giant, five door frames were what made up the entire hall. Mjoll noticed this and smiled.

"Don't get too many visitors here, huh?" she remarked. Delphine didn't respond however and kept walking. Mjoll sighed. Great, she was dealing with an older female version of Alodie now. How many more unfriendly people was she going to meet before bursting out into a boiling rage?

The inn keeper opened a door and walked in followed by Alodie while Mjoll stayed in the door frame. The room was small with only the bed really encompassing the floor along with a short table. A lamp sat idly by while a small window allowed the moons light to seep in. Delphine lit the lamp.

"You won't be staying long I take it?" she asked, bent over. Alodie nodded shortly.

"Only a night. We'll be leaving in the morning," he said. Delphine sighed in relief. Good, she didn't have to worry about bumping into them when she returned. Alodie stepped back as she stood up straight, giving him a stern glare.

What was strange to him was the way she carried herself, she was like a warrior – she certainly had enough muscle in her form. Alodie wondered if she was just retired or…something else. He just felt that this woman was acting a bit… odd. Mjoll didn't notice though as she stepped out of the room, heading towards the one next door.

She was glad to finally lie in a soft bed; the prison's mat was rock hard and itchy and the cold ground hadn't helped her aching muscles either. She realized that she needed to work out a bit more, that walk she took shouldn't have tired her out so quickly and severely. She was out of shape and shook her head at that realization.

Alodie followed Delphine out, shutting the door behind him. The inn keeper glanced back.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Alodie peered over to the next room and noticed the door was cracked open. Mjoll was that tired huh? They hadn't even eaten yet. And this paranoid inn keeper wasn't really helping anything. He raised his eyebrows.

"To eat. Don't you want my money?" he responded bluntly. The fifty year old Breton moved her mouth a few times before sighing heavily. She just didn't know what kind of tricks this Imperial was going to pull. She was going to play along for now though and she was only going to be happy when the four left her to her own business.

* * *

Galmar wasn't sure what was better, the battle of Haemir going as planned or Ulfric Stormcloak returning to the head. He heard about Helgen only just the other day by a lower officer and he had immediately called for celebration – ignoring the whole dragon affair that went with it.

When he saw his leader walking up the blue carpet in the Palace of Kings however, his face was of pure distraught.

"Ulfric, you're back," he said as he stood beside the empty throne. The Jarl of Windhelm spared him a tired look, smiling sadly.

"I failed them Galmar. I've failed them all," he said. Ulfric Stormcloak looked over towards his steward, Jorleif, who gave him a short bow in respect. Galmar looked his Jarl and friend over in confusion as he sat upon the cold stone throne, resting his head on his hand slowly.

"W-what do you mean Ulfric?" Galmar asked. He had won! Escaped while he was most definitely doomed. The battle at Haemir went as expected even without their Jarl to lead them into battle. The reports had declared that to be so. And now even their leader was unconfident? How could they ever win this war then?

Ulfric slammed his fist onto the cold arm of his throne, looking up. He shook his head once before glancing towards a confused Galmar who held his hands behind his back. He smiled.

"What have I've been missing?" he asked. Galmar paused before smirking, shaking his head.

"More then you know. We took the pass, Ulfric," he said. Both headed towards the war room at the side of the enormous throne room. Before them was a worn map of Skyrim – blue flags posted at forts, passes, and cities. The red were tangled about on the right side of the map but they were all about evenly spread. This annoyed Ulfric greatly.

And in the middle sat Whiterun – the only flagless hold amidst both red and blue. Galmar smiled, waving a blue flag that he pulled from the side of the war map.

"I was waiting until you returned to do this," he said, pulling slightly at Haemir's pass' flag – grinning. Ulfric had to smile at this; it had been a while since he had met with his top lieutenant. His small jokes about such serious subjects were probably what helped him through this war.

Galmar pushed a blue flag into the small hole already made by the red one. He smiled, standing back, crossing his arms. "The pass is ours."

"But not without bloodshed," Ulfric muttered. Galmar turned to Ulfric, shaking his head.

"And bloodshed comes with war." Galmar sighed. Ulfric was a great leader. More then what he would even be able to do. But he had never enjoyed the labors of war and the casualties that came with it. He hoped that it didn't end up stabbing them in the back in the future. "Jarl Ulfric, without that pass Falkreath would have been useless to us," he said.

Ulfric nodded. "Yes…yes you're right."

The general stared straighter towards his Jarl whose focus was entirely on the map. He slammed his hands onto the table. "Jarl Ulfric, are you listening? Or is your head in the clouds?" he asked. Ulfric chuckled, shaking his head.

"There is only one more hold left, Galmar. One more before I get the votes." Galmar smirked, bringing his hand into a fist.

"We've sent the messages to Jarl Balgruuf. He hasn't returned them. He obviously wants to start a war with the Stormcloaks," he said, gazing towards the bare spot on the map. Ulfric frowned, shaking his head. After killing the High King, it was only natural that he would take his spot. It was tradition – though an old one.

The moot would not meet until most of the holds wanted to elect a new High King. Only half of them wanted a moot. The others were Imperial dogs.

He didn't want to attack Balgruuf in fear that his swing vote would never be claimed again. And if he made war with him first there was no turning back. Galmar smiled, pointing at Whiterun – the white stallion bare of any punctured holes.

"He wants war so we are going to give it to him. I still think you should take them all out like you did King Torygg," the general said. He removed his hand. "The Imperials need to fear us. We are supposed to be a force worth reckoning with and not simply the 'rebels' of the empire."

Ulfric shook his head causing Galmar to raise his eyebrows. "Before we even do anything," the Jarl said, "we do it the old way."

Ulfric stared out the fogged window, the warmth from within causing moisture to clog the glass. He wiped it smoothly with his hand and stared off to the west were Whiterun Hold lay. He frowned.

The Greybeards taught him a long time ago, peace before violence, and that was exactly what he was going to do. He would prove them wrong. And maybe killing Torygg had been a mistake. Maybe it had been. But it was far too late to change his mind now. He had his people to defend from Imperials, dragons, and who even knows what else.

Galmar was not impressed. "You are sure Ulfric? This would be a ripe opportunity to show the Imperials who they are messing with."

Ulfric looked towards the window, the snow storm blowing about the countryside. He frowned.

"There are families to think about." Ulfric turned towards his general and began to stride out of the war room. "We cannot win this war through brute force alone."

Galmar laughed slightly as his Jarl walked past him. "Is that what you learned while you were captured by the Imperials? _Mercy_?" Galmar shook his head, following Ulfric. "I would have thought you could have been doing better things before your head was almost chopped off my good friend."

Ulfric paused, and then glanced over his shoulder. "I thought I was."

Galmar's smile fell. "You were? Planning their deaths maybe."

"Maybe," he said simple. "And yet…maybe not."

He turned to walk out, heading towards his throne.

"You are not making sense," Galmar said. "Are you saying that all the fighting we have been doing has been for nothing? That you are going to gain a soft spot and declare that Whiterun Hold should be free from Stormcloak domination?" Ulfric sat slowly, gazing towards the sky and away from Galmar. Jorleif glanced expectedly towards him but remained silent, knowing that he would only interrupt his war discussions with Galmar. The Jarl sighed.

"That's not it, my friend. I'm not giving up."

"Then why?" Galmar said. Ulfric paused to glance up at him before looking away.

"Tell me Galmar, why do you fight?"

Galmar smirked, "I'd follow you into your the depths of Oblivion, you know that."

"Is that really the reason?" he asked. Galmar shrugged.

"Why is it that you fight, Jarl Ulfric?" he asked.

Why was he fighting? When he shouted the High King off his throne in Solitude, why did he do it? For personal gain? Glory? Vengeance? He shook his head and looked straight into Galmar's eyes.

"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil," he began, remembering the Great War. The Terrible War is what it should be called. "I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breath..." Galmar stood at attention when his Jarl spoke, beginning to realize his own mistakes. "I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing!" Jarl Ulfric's hand bunched up into a fist, slamming it onto the throne. He opened his mouth once as if he was going to speak but it shut again. Why was he fighting? What was the reason?

Did there have to be a reason? "I fight... because I must."

The entire room grew deathly silent, the Stormcloak soldiers glancing at each other after hearing the moving speech from their Jarl. Galmar wondered that if there had been an audience, they would be applauding right about now. Ulfric's general slowly smiled at him.

"Of course, Jarl Ulfric," he began. "But a war without fighting would be the day people like us wouldn't be needed anymore."

Jarl Ulfric glanced up towards the sky again and smiled. He wondered what it would have been like had he not started this war. Maybe the people would have been better off. But to fight for nothing would only prove those dirty Imperials right. He knew what he was fighting for…

"I would gladly lay my arms down, were such a day to dawn."

…he was fighting for peace.

* * *

**Phew! Here you go guys, chapter 10. Next time it's you-know-what. Bleak Falls Barrow. Also, tell me if the interactions between Mjoll, Marcurio, and Aerin are right.**

**Oh, and please review guys! Don't be shy!**

_Hinode~dawn_


	12. The Golden Claw

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

"_What next, giant snakes?"_

Hadvar

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: The Golden Claw**

Mjoll awoke with a start at the loud knock at her door. She noticed that she had somehow fallen asleep without noticing it and groaned as she sat up from her uncomfortable position on the bed. The knock ceased as the door was simply flung open. Alodie stood there with a deep frown on his face.

"I've been knocking on your door for the past five minutes now," he said. She groaned, popping a few of her backbones as she stretched. The warrior sighed.

"You're pretty impatient. I bet it takes you longer to get up in the morning," she said. Alodie narrowed his eyes.

"I got up before you so I don't quite see what you are trying to argue," he said. Mjoll sighed. He was going to win the argument again, wasn't he? When would he just give her a break? Before she could think of a good comeback, her stomach growled loudly as she fidgeted on her bed. Alodie frowned. "We already ate," he said. Mjoll's face exclaimed horror.

"You already ate?" she exclaimed. "_Without me_?" Alodie rolled his eyes.

"Maybe if sleeping beauty her actually got her ass up…" he muttered. Mjoll boiled in anger, standing. She hated his guts. _Detested him._ As if yesterday hadn't been bad enough what with Marcurio's screw up.

When she entered the tavern, she first noticed that the inn keeper was missing. The bar keep, Orgnar was wiping down glasses trying to avoid their eyes. She hoped that they would get to Whiterun at least by today. She didn't want to spend another night at this suspicious inn.

Aerin and Marcurio sat at a table by the wall, exchanging idle conversation. Alodie came in behind her, crossing his arms. She continued to simmer in anger. They were just going to go on with their lives without her, huh? And was Aerin actually talking with that mage? Were they drunk?

Alodie walked past her, shoving a pack at her. "We're getting supplies before we leave," he said. He turned to face her. "Make sure you're awake for it." She frowned.

"Ha, ha, very funny," she remarked dryly. Alodie ignored her sarcasm as he headed towards the door, Orgnar's eyes trailing him. Marcurio looked up towards Alodie and smirked.

"Where yah going chief?" he asked. Alodie glanced towards him, Mjoll following the Imperial close behind.

"Supplies," was all he said. Marcurio frowned. He was hoping that it was "adventure" or "fun" that came out of his mouth but he highly doubted that he would ever say those words. Feeling that his time was better spent at the inn, he made himself more comfortable. Aerin looked pleadingly at the two but knew that this mage would get them into trouble if he didn't watch him and sighed. He was always the one left out of things, wasn't he?

The early morning sky held no clouds except for near the Throat of the World where an ever-present mist hid its top. Mjoll cover her eyes from the blazing sun and breathed in deeply the smells of the mountains. It had been so long since she explored Skyrim's peaks, three years maybe? It had definitely been too long.

She started wondering again about Alodie, where has gone in the past? What experiences did he have? She highly doubted that she would be getting any of the information out of him any time soon though.

Alodie glanced about him at the town of Riverwood before spotting the "Riverwood Trader's," and headed towards it with brisk steps. The town beggar pleaded to them for a drink as he went down the wooden steps but he ignored the Nord while Mjoll looked back at him dejectedly. Alodie glanced back at her.

"Keep moving," he said. Mjoll groaned. He was so bossy, wasn't he? And so insistent. She shook her head as she followed Alodie's quick steps, glad that she didn't have to deal with him and the strange inn keeper this morning. What had happened last night? Alodie definitely didn't look like he had been drinking, though it was hard to tell from the way he always held himself.

They past the town's blacksmith, a tall Nord hammered away at hard iron – shaping a gear looking device. Probably for the lumber mill, Mjoll thought. He glanced up as he saw the same two strangers from last night, narrowing his eyes.

She looked suspicious, no doubt. The armor she wore was Riften's armor – basically Stormcloak armor. And they were in Whiterun, both Imperial and Stormcloak lovers lived in this hold. Things would not end well. So, she turned to Alodie as they headed towards the trader.

"I think I'll head towards the local blacksmith. See if they have a good price on some armor," she said. Alodie glanced back at her and nodded.

"Go ahead. I'm not your babysitter," he said. Mjoll sighed but otherwise ignored Alodie's childish comment.

Now that Mjoll was gone, Alodie entered the Riverwood Trader – an original name, granted. Inside, a fight was breaking out between a middle-aged Nord and his young…sister? He shut the door softly, glancing towards the pair.

"They saw a dragon up there, Lucan. That thing must have something to do with them," the young woman said to Lucan, the merchant behind a rich counter of goods and potions. The merchant frowned.

"I said no. A thousand times no! How many times do I have to say it sister?" Lucan said, glancing towards the door. Noticing the Imperial there, he straightened. "Just…leave it alone Camilla. I have a customer." The young woman glanced towards Alodie, frowning. There were rarely ever any strangers to their small town – most took a mountain pass near Helgen. Well…now that Helgen was gone…

She sighed, shaking her head, before heading towards the fire and staring directly into its flames – pouting. She hated it here, she wanted to go out – explore Skyrim. Not sit around a dusty Trader all day.

Alodie, knowing that he had a great shortage in gold, came up to the counter and glanced around at the merchandise. Aerin told him of the stable outside of town and the horses they had there, along with the stable hand. The hand told him that all goods were bought from Lucan, the only trader in Riverwood. Alodie groaned at this. When he could have made a few merchants at least a bit reasonable in their prices now he only had to deal with one.

Lucan smiled. "Welcome traveler. What brings you to Riverwood?"

"Horses, actually," Alodie replied. He felt a hot stare on the back of his head and turned to look at Lucan's sister – her face flushed for some reason. He wasn't sure why. Lucan noticed his sister's affectionate stares and coughed once, bringing Alodie's attention back to him.

"We do have a few mares for sale – I'm not sure if you can have them though," he said. Alodie raised his eyebrows.

"And why would that be?" he asked. Lucan coughed again. This man looked strong. He could probably handle those bandits. He already sent another stranger to go after the claw, a Wood Elf hunter, about a week ago. He never returned though. He doubted that he was alive. Lucan smiled.

"Because, I don't sell to strangers – that's why," he said. Alodie narrowed his eyes. Just how unreasonable were these people? How could this man, Lucan, ever hope to earn money if he cornered his goods? No, there was something else going on here.

Before he could say anything, Camilla sat up. "So, are you saying that he can go after the claw?" she accused Lucan. The trader sighed.

"Yes. Now you don't have to go now, do you?" Alodie was confused. He didn't remember agreeing to anything. Seeing the man's suspicious stare, Lucan shook his head. "You go and get my golden claw from those horrible bandits at Bleak Falls Barrow and I might give you those horses. Free of charge."

Alodie groaned. He didn't have to do anything to get those horses – he could just steal them and get it over with. But he felt that he had to prove to Mjoll something. Prove that he wasn't as callous as she thought him to be.

He stared at the trader before nodding once. He was pretty sure that this was the weirdest business transaction he has ever gone through.

"And why is this claw so…important?" Alodie asked. After all, it looked like the thieves hadn't touched anything else in the store. Lucan's face grew red.

"Do you want your horses or not?" he asked. Alodie still felt the offer was a bit suspicious and that there was more to all of this then there seemed but he agreed. Before he could leave, the young Nord woman stood.

"You don't know the way there, right?" she asked him. Alodie looked her over. She obviously wanted to avenge these bandits herself and to be honest, he would mind letting her. But he needed those two horses. Badly. He shook his head causing her to smile towards Lucan. "Then I'll show you the way."

"What? N-no! You…" The trader sighed. "By the eight...fine! But only to the edge of town," Lucan stuttered as his sister opened the door, the cold air rushing in as she escaped the prison. Alodie looked towards Lucan who was still flustered and shrugged.

When Alodie left, he noticed Mjoll standing by the blacksmiths beginning to put on a new iron casing. After talking with the blacksmith Alvor, the kind smith decided to lower his prices a bit after she told him her story. Not a completely factual one, but close enough. She hadn't told him of Alodie who walked up to her now trailed by a short Nord lass. She narrowed her eyes.

"What have you gotten yourself into now?" she asked. Alvor glanced over Mjoll's shoulder towards the dark looking Imperial and Camilla who was grinning ear to ear. That girl was getting herself into trouble again, wasn't she? Alvor handed Mjoll another armor plate which she took gratefully.

"And who's this?" Alvor asked. Mjoll looked over to Alvor who looked at Alodie with suspicion. The Imperial ignored the question.

"I'm going to the barrows, Mjoll," he said, pointing up into the mountains. The young Nord Warrior narrowed her eyes, looking towards the west. Tall statues and standing stones dotted the countryside. It looked like death. Mjoll looked back at Alodie in confusion.

"I thought we were leaving for Whiterun," she said. Alodie shook his head.

"Change of plans," he said. The young Imperial pointed to Camilla. "Her store lost some claw and the only way to get our horses is if we go up there." Mjoll frowned.

"Did you tell Aerin? And Marcurio?" she asked. Alodie rolled his eyes.

"It shouldn't take us too long," he assured her. Mjoll highly doubted that. And if he wanted to go alone, then why was he telling her? The young woman beside Alodie frowned when she saw Mjoll. Now there was a strong Nord woman who looked as if she could take care of herself. Why wasn't she like her? Because Lucan wouldn't let her.

Alvor sighed after he finished with Mjoll's armor, smiling. "Well, I guess I'm done," he said. Alodie looked towards Mjoll who gave her a "You didn't spend too much, right?" look. Mjoll ignored him as she secured her battle axe to her back, throwing a bag of gold to Alvor who didn't really look in it. She smiled.

"Thank you Alvor," she said. Alodie narrowed his eyes at the Nord. The young merchant beside him began to feel a bit nervous around the Imperial. She waved her hand.

"Bleak Falls Barrow is right up those mountains to the southwest," she said as they began walking towards it past the "gates" of Riverwood. Mjoll looked towards the inn where Aerin was and worried that he would go looking for them. She prayed that this would be over soon and that it wouldn't be too dangerous. "Actually, it's rather strange. The only thing the bandits took was that stupid golden claw that Lucan likes to wave about. He uses it to get customers in his store," she continued. They stopped at a bridge that went over the river that separated the town. The Nord merchant wiped her sweaty hands on her apron and gazed up towards a mountain pass. "He's a strange one. Thinks the damned thing brings him luck or some such. I highly doubt that though."

Alodie guessed that this was the way they were supposed to go and began heading across the bridge with Mjoll in toe. Camilla held out her hand. "Wait, stranger," she said. Mjoll frowned as she turned around while Alodie simply stopped. The more time they wasted, the more time Aerin grew suspicious of their whereabouts. He would never let her go with Alodie if he knew. The trader smirked. "Just in case you have second thoughts…I don't want to send you to your deaths," she began. "But a few weeks ago, we sent a mercenary group up there. They never returned. All of them were killed by those bandits."

They both grew solemn while Alodie looked towards the Barrow. "I don't know what is in there but for some reason, those bandits want it," she said. "Take care of yourself."

"You don't need to worry," he said, tightening his cloak, lifting his hood. He would have to do a bit of sneaking around; he only hoped that Mjoll didn't get in the way. The warrior checked her axe, making sure it was sharp, before following Alodie up the mountain.

As they climbed, Alodie jumping over a large rock in their path, Mjoll thought that it was about time he answered some questions.

"So, why exactly are we going to Whiterun? Why not Solitude or Windhelm?" she asked as they ascended the mountain. Alodie realized that it would have been best if they had brought their horses along for the climb up the pass, realizing that the Barrow was most likely miles away. He sighed.

"That isn't really any of your business," he replied. _Wow, how suspicious_, Mjoll thought, rolling her eyes. He had to be obvious, didn't he? And yet, it worked – she looked like she wasn't minding her own business. She thought blankly as they cleared another hill, the ground leveling a bit. She stared off into the nearby mountains.

"It's the Thieves Guild, isn't it?" she began. Alodie turned around to glare at her. He was pretty sure that he made his reason as indiscernible as possible. How could Mjoll guess that so easily? She snapped her fingers. "I see, so it is Thieves Guild business," she said as she continued walking. Alodie turned so that his face didn't give anything away.

"Let's just keep going," he said, attempting to change the subject. Mjoll saw it coming, however.

"What is Maven making you do this time? Oh, wait – frame someone else for a crime so that they spend eternity in jail?" she said. Alodie stopped as they began to climb the next ridge, glaring at the warrior.

"I saved you, Mjoll," he said. "Why I did what I did…I don't even know."

Mjoll crossed her arms. "You don't 'know?' How could you not know, Alodie? Now that you're out of Riften you are free of them – there is no need to do Maven's dirty work anymore."

Alodie tensed, staring up towards the mountain that covered the Barrow above. He remembered Aringoth's words – the High Elf that was now imprisoned – and felt that there was something…stirring behind the scenes. It was either his gut feeling or simple paranoia, he wasn't sure. He thought of an answer for Mjoll before heading up the mountain.

"You told me to save Riften," he began, noticing an old broken down Imperial tower. "This is the only way I know how." Mjoll had to agree, the only reason she had stayed in Riften was so that she could save it. Now that she had no way to do so, she had to rely on Alodie – the stranger she met one night wandering Riften. She still felt a bit doubtful about all of this though.

"And how are you going to do that when you are one of them, Alodie? Sabotage them from the inside? You're only one person," she said. After all, she didn't want to give the young man a task he would probably never be able to accomplish. He wasn't invincible.

Alodie continued climbing as she noticed the Imperial give her a small smile before giving her a cryptic answer. "As I said, it's the only way I know how." Before Mjoll could ask him about that, Alodie noticed a few people coming out of the tower and frowned – using a tall rock beside him as cover, pulling Mjoll along with him. The warrior glared at him.

"What was that—?"

"Shh," he muttered quickly, the Nord beside him sighing deeply.

A barbarian walked out followed by a ranger type woman, both of them laughing loudly at something. Alodie unsheathed his sword while Mjoll grabbed her battle axe, looking towards Alodie for a plan. He motioned with his eyes silently, telling her that he would make a strike first while she covered him. Mjoll nodded as Alodie grabbed his knife as well, preparing to make a run for the two bandits.

Before she could even prepare herself, Alodie shot out like an arrow – the two bandits jumping at the sudden appearance of the Imperial. The woman yelped as she backed up into the tower while the barbarian licked his lips, ready for the fight.

Alodie wasn't used to striking when his opponents could clearly see him and was not in the mood to deal with the weighed down Nord barbarian. He looked quickly over his shoulder to see Mjoll following him quickly as the barbarian began to swing at him with his axe. He rolled quickly out of the way, getting onto his feet while creating fire in his hand. The action was used more to blind the man then to burn him as Alodie easily slipped away from the Nord's view, heading into the tower.

Mjoll saw this action and knew that Alodie was leaving the Nord for her and began to ready her battle axe. It had been so long since she did these sort of raids and she feared that she wouldn't be able to perform to her best ability.

The Nord spotted her and growled like a wolf. She found that the barbarian's moves were predictable – an angry slash with his axe on her right and a slow counter with his axe near the middle. She easily held her ground and found herself pushing the Nord back onto the fort's bridge that was suspended hundreds of feet above the ground. She smirked as she pushed the barbarian back – the stupid Nord not realizing the open ground below him.

Finding an opening in his wild attacks, she ducked an incoming swing as she faked her next stroke, causing the man to flinch. And that flinch was what brought the Nord to his end.

While Mjoll dealt with the heavy barbarian, Alodie chased the ranger woman up the steps of the tower. Arrows flew past him as he followed, the woman grunting as he dodged each and every one of them. They were soon at the top of the tower with Alodie pinning the bandit against the wall. She cursed as Alodie pulled his knife out once again as she pulled out a short sword.

Alodie made the first attack, rushing at her with a speed no one would even be able to track. He feigned right before coming at her with his knife, the bandit however was still quick enough to at least dodge out of the way. Alod surprisingly found his knife digging into the side of the wooden plank that had been behind the ranger, cursing as he tried to pull it out. The bandit smiled, kicking out towards Alodie causing him to trip. He left his knife in the wood as he rolled away from the bandit's stab at him, getting up onto his feet quickly.

She growled as she turned around though not fast enough. Alodie quickly grabbed her head with both of his hands and twisted while a resounding crack accompanied it. The bandit's eyes whitened as she fell to the floor, dead.

Without even a second breath, Alodie grabbed the hilt of his knife – sheathing it onto his belt delicately before turning to look out the window. Mjoll glanced up after she dealt with the barbarian as she felt a pair of eyes on her. Seeing the bandit fall to his death, Alodie frowned.

"I hope you're in the mood to clean up that mess on the way down," he called out. Mjoll glared at him as she secured her battle axe to her back, the leather straps tightening.

"And I'm _sure_ you did a better job than me," she half-muttered under her breath half-called out. Alodie smirked underneath his hood, going away from the wall. He checked the now very dead bandit for anything of use, only finding a few gold coins. He narrowed his eyes. For a rather elite group of bandits, they didn't seem to be that rich. It was quite possibly because they were only stealing golden claws.

He made his way out of the tower with Mjoll staring back at him, trying to see if he wasn't injured. Seeing that he was okay, she faced the now flattened out pass. They had to be close to the Barrow if there were watches all the way out here.

Alodie knew this as well and began to march past her towards the pass once again, intent on figuring out this mystery. Mjoll groaned.

"I have a bad feeling about this Alod," she muttered as they saw the Barrow over the ridge. Tall spires made up the ancient tomb along with steep stairs up to the top. Alodie kept his guard up as he edged his way towards the Barrow, his hand ever on the hilt of his sword. Mjoll felt a darkness coming from there as she felt from all Nordic tombs she's ever delved in. She hoped that these bandits hadn't woken anything up.

"So do I, but do you see me complaining?" he retorted. Mjoll shook her head as she saw a few bandits near the top of the towering steps. She sighed. There was so many of them …

She pulled out her battle axe, ready to kill as many of them as possible. Before she could however, Alod raised a hand before she could go into the fray. He looked back at her as if a plan was formulating in his mind. "I'd rather do this the easy way, wouldn't you?" he asked her. Mjoll glared at him.

"I don't think we should be letting these bandits live, Alodie. They are terrorizing the people down there," she protested. They should all die for their illegal acts of banditry. That was why she went adventuring, to kill those that could hurt others later. Alodie narrowed his eyes.

"If you just go charging up there, you're going to get yourself killed," he said. Mjoll laughed lightly, gripping her axe tighter.

"Then let them come," she said, grinning. Alodie sighed, shaking his head. He wanted to do this nice and quietly, Lucan never said he had to kill the bandits; he just wanted his stupid claw back. They couldn't destroy an entire bandit horde on their own.

But maybe what Mjoll really wanted was revenge. Revenge on those bandits that caused her so much harm years ago.

To be honest, he couldn't blame her.

Mjoll tensed when Alodie came closer to her so that he could whisper. "We don't have time for this. If you really want to, you can go after them later. But right now, I'm just focused on trying to get to Whiterun, okay?" he said. She didn't say a word as he left, crouching slowly towards a dark spire, glancing up.

What she did wonder was how she – the most ungraceful out of them all – going to sneak into there?

* * *

Normally, Arvel the Swift would be drinking along with his fellow bandits, but this day…this day was different. The Dark Elf swallowed as the spider ascended into its web above him and cringed when it began making sounds above him. He shook violently, closing his eyes. The thing wanted to make him a snack for later huh? Well, he would make sure he didn't taste very good.

His struggling in the web however didn't really help him in escaping. He whimpered as the spider's bite from earlier began to drain his energy.

He knew how to open that door, finally after months of planning. The golden claw and an even greater treasure behind that door was his to claim. No one here but him had to know about it.

_The fools_, he thought, smirking. They thought he had wasted his time to rob just the claw from Lucan's store when in fact it would give them the golden treasures of the ancient Nords! Who knew how much power they held behind that trapped door, he was rather sure that the dead wouldn't tell him.

All he needed to do was simply escape. That was all.

The spider above him began twisting a body of a skeever from above, sucking the poor rat's guts as its breakfast. He only hoped that he was dessert. He felt the golden claw that was still in his hands trying to free himself a bit so that he could reach his knife. No use.

He groaned as he stood back up. He couldn't burn his way out knowing that the web would catch both him and his trap on fire. He had to hope that his fellow bandits could find him.

It had all started last month, a group of them ran from the west – the Forsworn definitely didn't like competitors. It was there that they found the Barrow, Arvel recognized the Barrow as an old Nordic tomb – probably even older then the eras. The people in the settlement of Riverwood were afraid of the Barrow which gave them a base of operations.

He sort of regretted it now as the spider began to descend again – taking a long dead corpse and pulling it up into the web. _Maybe it doesn't like its meals fresh_, Arvel thought morbidly, trying to move again. Suddenly, he heard footsteps from down the hall he came from and smiled.

"Is that you? Forn? Zolek!" he yelled out. The spider began to devour the poor soul, touching it with its enormous legs. He had never seen a spider this large before in his life and wished that the other passage they used to use hadn't caved in on them.

He frowned when the footsteps stopped. "Look, I didn't mean to run off with the claw! I didn't!" he yelled.

Both Alodie and Mjoll looked at each other when they heard a voice accompanied by fear down the hall. Somehow, the two of them were able to slip by the bandits – though, not without the help of Alodie's muffle spell. He rarely used it since his initiation years ago but he believed that it had to make do for their situation. At least Mjoll's iron boots didn't clang as noisily as they did earlier.

They had to kill the two in the chamber; both bandits were surprised at the sight of intruders. Alodie guessed that they had been this Forn and Zolek this bandit was crying out for. Alodie unsheathed his sword, prepared for the worst while Mjoll copied him taking her axe.

They came up to a room filled with spider webs – some of the string being at least a foot thick. Mjoll swallowed nervously, holding onto her axe tightly. Alodie took a step forward into the room seeing a Dark Elf tangled in a web on the opposite side of the room. Dead corpses of skeevers and ancient skeletons littered the floor as he tried to avoid the sticky webs, glaring towards the Dunmer supposedly named Arvel the Swift. He was looking up.

"Gah!" he screamed as Alodie and Mjoll looked up into the hundreds of eyes that stared back at them from above. Alodie swept his hand back, the fire clearing any webs around the two of them as the spider descended again but this time intending to kill the intruders. Alodie stepped back with Mjoll behind him keeping her ground.

The large spider crawled towards them in bounds, the small room barely giving them enough space to dodge. Both Mjoll and Alodie separated, Alodie slashing at the spiders legs. He never hit it though, the monster moving just a bit too fast for him as the spider went after Mjoll.

The warrior growled deeply, preparing her axe to strike. The spider, however, was just a bit too fast for her as her strike hit hard stone. The monster was soon on top of her, the heavy thing tackling her down onto the ground. She grunted in pain, seeing the spider trying to stab her with its stinger. She pulled out a knife and stabbed up at its many eyes. The thing cried out in pain as both Mjoll and Alodie went on the attack. The spider ended up close to Arvel as it flailed around.

"Get it away from me! Get it away!" he yelled. Alodie didn't listen to the Dunmer's complaints as he hurled towards its back, holding tightly onto the spider's torso. It shrieked as it tried to get the Imperial off of it, shaking and crashing itself against the wall. Alodie however held tight as if trying to tame a horse and glanced towards Mjoll – or at least tried to.

"Kill it!" he yelled at her, puncturing his knife into the spiders back. The thing was more angered then hurt by the attack and flailed around even more, attempting to climb back up into its web but failed to because of the extra weight. Mjoll glared at the monster and lifted her axe.

Alodie was suddenly flung back – unable to hold on anymore— as Mjoll slashed at the spider horizontally and crashed gracelessly into a few old webs and pots behind him. Arvel laughed nervously as he saw the spider breath its last by Mjoll's axe, the Nord pulling her weapon from the dead insect.

"Th-thank the gods," he muttered tiredly. Alodie groaned as he sat up, feel a few new bruises on his back.

"You could have done that _a_ _bit_ more elegantly…" he muttered, rubbing his head, standing.

Mjoll rolled her eyes. "Shut up you big baby."

"Help me get out of here!" the Dunmer shrieked. Alodie wiped the old webs off of his cloak as he glared at Arvel, spotting a glint underneath the webs. He walked soundlessly towards the Elf and peered up towards the hanging bandit.

"Why should I?" he asked. The Dunmer smirked, glancing down into his hands.

"You want the claw, don't you?" Arvel said, moving slightly. Alodie didn't make any moves to nod but the Dunmer saw the Imperial's eyes glint in agreement. "Help me down and I'll show you the door," he said. Alodie narrowed his eyes along with Mjoll.

"What door?" Mjoll asked. Arvel frowned then began to laugh but not before the tightness of his bindings stopped him.

"You mean you don't even know?" He laughed even more. "Then Lucan was more of a fool then I thought."

Alodie came closer to the web and held up his hand, fire cascading in it gently. Arvel's eyes widened. "W-what are you going to do with tha—"

"Tell me what you know or you're going up in flames," he threatened. Arvel shook.

"P-please! Just listen alright! No need to get violent," he shrieked. Alodie lowered his hand by only a fraction, the act not really convincing. Arvel continued anyway. "The door leads to the tomb. The Hall of Stories. It has a puzzle you see. Y-you need a key." They all heard echoes coming down the hall behind Arvel. The Dunmer ignored it. "I have the key. The claw!" Alodie got closer to the Dunmer, the flames licking his cheek. Arvel tried to move back but failed.

"What in Talos's name is he talking about?" Mjoll interrupted. Alodie glared at Arvel who shook even more from fright.

"Give me the claw," he said. Arvel smirked.

"Does it look like I can give it to you from—"

Alodie took out his knife and began to jab quickly at the web, cutting out the Dunmer's figure. Arvel the Swift coughed a few times before he could feel both his arms and legs free from the web. He grinned as Alodie tried to untangle himself from the remaining web. "There's a reason why they call me Arvel _the Swift_ you know," he said. He threw the web onto Alodie as he ran down the corridor he had been covering. Alodie cursed trying to free himself as he chased after the Dunmer followed by Mjoll. The warrior helped cut the remaining web off of Alodie then dashed after the foolish Dark Elf.

Alodie began to feel strange as he ran down the halls to catch the Dunmer, the walls beginning to move on their own. He heard Mjoll curse behind him and twisted around to see the very tombs of the barrow springing to life. Mjoll's eyes widened before waving sharply at Alodie.

"Keep going! Catch the bastard!" she yelled, swinging her axe at a nearby draugr. The bones crunched underneath her heavy axe as she pushed her momentum forward to the next undead Nord. Alodie slowed, glancing towards Arvel. The foolish Dunmer was already far away from the two – already heading past a tall pillar of rock.

Arvel laughed as he took his prize down the hall. He didn't know where he was going but he could finally reach the treasure. If only—

Alod stopped running after the Dunmer when a wall of spikes suddenly rushed past him. The Imperial backed up quickly as the wall of spikes smashed Arvel between it and the wall, the Elf's blood running down like water. It was obvious that Arvel was just _too_ swift for his own good. He glanced back to see Mjoll still struggling with the undead, most of them already surrounding her. Before he himself joined the fight, another one of the dead beside him stood from its crevice. This one however, was a little… different.

Alodie suddenly found himself being lifted off the floor and crashing into the opposite wall by a …spell? An enchantment? He didn't know exactly what the undead Nord did to him. He only knew that the force of it caused the corridor that separated him and Mjoll to come crashing down, dragging a few draugr with it. Mjoll cursed, "re-killing" the last of the undead.

"Alod!" she yelled over the pile of rubble. She cursed again, trying to move a few rocks. "Alodie!"

Alodie couldn't hear Mjoll's calls over the undead Nord's ancient taunts to him in an old yet…familiar language. He rolled out of the way from the draugr's sword, drawing his own. The undead Nord beat his shield as they both prepared for their attack, circling each other menacingly.

Alodie attacked first, arching his blow towards the undead. It gave a short laugh before blocking with its shield and stabbed towards the living Imperial. He backed up gracefully, the point of the sword almost touching him before he grazed the weapon on his knife. The draugr, seeing what the Imperial was doing, dropped it's shield and engulfing Alodie in shards of ice. The young Imperial stopped his stride towards the undead as multiple shards of ice punctured his torso, grunting in pain.

Mjoll continued to call out as she heard the fighting, "Alodie, are you alright?"

"I'm _fine_, Mjoll. _Perfectly_ okay," he slowly called back, dodging the undead's sword. He smirked seeing that it left itself open, digging his electrical sword into the old bones and fiber of the draugr. The undead Nord's bright blue eyes suddenly dimmed, its connection to the material world finally severed, falling to the ground.

Alodie took in deep breaths as he sat down slowly, feeling puncture holes in his leather armor. He groaned as he made the repairs to his body himself, his hand awash in a white light. He never had to use healing spells so much before. He glanced down at his armor and sighed. Tonilia was going to kill him – his armor was a complete mess of holes already. His old armor never got this ruined.

He called back to Mjoll. "It's dead." The warrior sighed in relief, pushing at the rock wall again.

"You have the claw?" she asked. Alodie glanced over towards the Dunmer's mangled body seeing the discarded claw covered in dark blood. He got up slowly, his healing spell still affecting him, picking up the solid gold object.

He nodded. "Yes," he called out. He could almost see Mjoll smiling behind the wall of rock.

"I'll get Marcurio. He could probably blast this rock to Oblivion," she said, smirking. Alodie looked the claw over between his hands, seeing the forms of a bear, butterfly, and owl. He touched the imprints delicately, confused as to what they could mean. He raised his voice.

"You don't need to," he said. Mjoll stopped walking away, coming up to the wall of rock again, puzzled.

"And why exactly?" she began. "There's no way you're getting out of here unless this wall comes down." Alodie turned the claw over, smearing Arvel's blood between his hands as he studied the object in a strange fascination.

"I'm going in there," he said simply. He saw his sword on the ground and picked it up, sheathing the blade. He heard Mjoll grumble in frustration.

"You can't do that. It's too dangerous," she said. Alodie laughed softly.

"Who said I was afraid?" he retorted, fixing his cloak.

"Don't. Alodie. Don't make me force this wall open myself," she threatened, digging her fingers into the rock. Was he mentally insane? They had the claw; they didn't need anything else inside this cursed place. Just standing here was giving her the creeps. She could swear someone was whispering softly into her ear as the silence grew between them and didn't want Alodie, no matter how "experienced" and "combat savvy" he was, to just rush in there alone. It was suicide.

Alodie apparently didn't care. "Fine, but I won't be here when you do," he said – looking towards the spike wall that was slowly retracting back to its place against the pillar. He took note of the pressure plate of rock and stepped over it, looking pathetically towards Arvel's body. _It was just one step around you idiot_, he thought. After he passed the mouse trap without a sweat, the Imperial continued down the hall slowly, aware that some more draugrs could be around the corner.

Mjoll pounded the rock. _The bastard…_


	13. The Wall

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

"_Het nok faal vahlok, deinmaar do dovaahgolz, ahrk aan __**FUS**__ do unslaad rahgol ahrk vulom."_

"_Here lies the guardian, keeper of dragonstone, and a __**FORCE**__ of unending rage and darkness."_

Bleak Falls Barrow Word Wall

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: The Wall**

The Castle Dour wouldn't have been the first place General Tullius went to after a rather long conquest but it was as they said – "duty calls." He frowned as he looked upon a strategy map of Skyrim, glaring at the "rebels'" seat of power. He never really considered the "Stormcloaks" as a threat and yet here they were, conquering the east like nobody's business. And soon, the Imperials in Skyrim would be cut off from Cyrodiil.

"They're going after Markarth Hold next, General Tullius. It would only make sense," Legate Rikke said, crossing her arms. Her General looked up, considering the statement carefully.

"I have a feeling that you're wrong, Legate," he said, facing the map once again. He stood up straight and immediately his eyes were drawn to Whiterun, the trading center of all of Skyrim. If Ulfric took Whiterun, no one could stop him. Legate Rikke stood at attention, confused as to why her General thought this way. Tullius continued. "Most of our forces are in Markarth right now, soldier. Ulfric would have to be stupid to invade the Reach," he said. Legate Rikke narrowed her eyes.

"But…sir… it won't matter how many forces we have in Markarth. As long as it's there, Ulfric will try to take it," she reasonable argued.

General Tullius sighed. "Is it hard for you to believe, Legate, that Ulfric is not so blindly loyal to his Nordic sense of honor after all? He murdered the High King, took Falkreath under our noses, and _surrendered_. I've heard that surrender to you people is the utmost disgrace of all," he said. He glared at Windhelm, tempted to take its bear flag and replace it with the Empire's. He would be captured in spirit. "I may have only been here for a few months, Legate Rikke, but I know you Nords are much more predictable then that."

The Legate sighed, nodding her head. "Of course, sir," she said.

General Tullius huffed. "_Of course_, Legate," he retorted. They both remained silent as Tullius studied the map intensely, trying to figure where Ulfric would attack first. The south would be his best bet, through Riverwood. He remembered one of his high ranking officers mentioning the small town to him. Strategically, it wasn't an important settlement. Wasn't. Now, the small town had to withstand the Stormcloak army and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

_Damn you Balgruuf_, he thought, drawing closer to the table. His Legate observed the scene before her and frowned. Things haven't been going well for the Empire's side in the fight – Tullius didn't take Ulfric seriously for one. Her commander was treating the Jarl like a common bandit or thug. Sure, it would be stupid to attack Markarth but Ulfric now had the men to do it. If only Tullius could see it that way.

Before she could speak, General Tullius pointed quickly at Whiterun, grabbing a scroll. "The rebels want what we can't have. Whiterun is right there for the taking. Imperial soldiers aren't stationed anywhere within the Hold. How easy would it be for Ulfric to just waltz right up to Dragonsreach and take the city?" he said. Legate lowered her head.

"Rather easily, sir," she said.

"Exactly," he said. "So, I'm sending a few platoons there right now to make sure that they don't."

Legate Rikke visibly disagreed to this, slamming her fist down onto the table to stop Tullius from writing. "But sir, you can't force a Jarl to accept help they do not want," she protested. General Tullius groaned, throwing the quill that still had ink on it onto the table. He glared at his Legate.

"By the gods, how unreasonable are you people? If Whiterun is going to be attacked then I will not just stand idly by and let them be. I am the General of Skyrim's army. Jarl Balgruuf is a part of Skyrim. Who I protect is no one's concern," he said. Rikke sighed, looking towards Whiterun on the map.

"I thought I told you, General Tullius, that it is a Nordic tradition. If the Jarls want to protect what is theirs, we can't argue with them," she said. Tullius rolled his eyes, picking up the quill again.

"You Nords and your Jarls," he muttered, jotting something down. Rikke glanced over the decree, worried.

"Sir…" she mumbled. General Tullius sighed.

"You Nords and your damnable sense of honor," he added on. Legate Rikke bowed slightly, looking towards Legate Adventus who didn't really like to get into discussions like this. He was an Imperial so he wouldn't help her anyway.

General Tullius finished, glancing up at both of his Legates. He rolled up the scroll and handed it to Adventus. "I want you to give this to Lieutenant Salvarus. Tell him to embellish if need be. Jarl Balgruuf needs to know what he is dealing with." The Legate bowed once as he took the scroll.

"Yes, General Tullius. I'll get on it straight away," he said.

Tullius added on. "After that, make sure he sends it with someone Balgruuf already trusts. Legionnaire Hadvar should be good enough," he said. The soldier was extremely loyal to the Empire and was also there after Helgen was attacked. He ended up in Whiterun after the fight and was able to rendezvous with them at Dragon's Bridge. It would only make sense to send in a man Balgruuf was already familiar with. He wasn't sure if the soldier would like going back to Whiterun though.

He started to pace around the map, trying to predicting Ulfric's next move. Once he had Balgruuf's support secured, he might just have a chance to strike back at the rebellion. He wasn't used to such warfare – in the Great War, the enemy was across the ocean away from all of the fighting. In the Civil War, Ulfric was right there – they could win if he simply killed this one man. It drove the General insane just thinking about it.

Legate Adventus left with the scroll, a few soldiers saluted him as he walked by. As he left, the local captain of the guard, Aldis, walked in, his face stained with worry. Legate Rikke looked at the Captain with a small bit of curiosity as he walked into the war room. General Tullius knew why he had come in though.

"Let me guess Captian, it's about Roggvir," he said. "I've already told you – whatever you Nords think is reasonable punishment is fine just as long as it doesn't escalate anymore insubordinate attitudes from the peop—"

"The people want blood, General Tullius," the Captain said, frowning. He sighed, shaking his head. "Just this morning I had a crowd gathered near the front of the prisons all calling for the same thing. Roggvir's death."

Legate Rikke narrowed her eyes as she bent over the map of Skyrim, troubled over this. Even though the High King wasn't that great of a military leader, he was still loved by his people. What Ulfric and this cowardly guardsman Roggvir did was take away their beloved figure. She was pretty sure that General Tullius knew this as well.

The General sighed, sitting down. The people were trying to find a scapegoat. He knew what would happen next, he has seen this so many times in the last war when he was simply a Captain. The Jarl would want to make her people happy of course. If the death of one – just one – would give the people hope, then he would be selfish to deny him only that.

"Whatever the tribune decides is final – what you Nords decide is final. The crimes committed by Roggvir were not done to the Empire but to Skyrim," he said, looking up. "It is none of my business."

Legate Rikke sighed, drawing closer to the Imperial commander.

"I think it's your business now, General Tullius. Before long, it'll become the Empire's business as well. We have always stood by you; Skyrim has always stood by you." She bent over the map again. "The Skyrim needs the Empire just as much as the Empire needs us. That's always been true – throughout all the eras and even now. "

General Tullius groaned, looking towards the Legate with a deep frown. "What you said is true, Legate. Whether that is a weakness both of us need to overcome…I'm not so sure." He glanced towards Aldis. "I will personally speak to the Jarl about this, Captain. Tell the people to be patient. You are dismissed."

Captain Aldis hesitated, bowing once before leaving. He still wasn't sure if the General knew what he was doing. Before long, a mob of people would be on the Castle Dour's front door. He hoped that the people were not as persistent as this morning. He sighed. Aldis decided that a visit to the Temple would be able to calm his nerves – if only a little bit.

General Tullius sighed, glancing over to Legate Rikke. "You Nords and your damned sense of justice."

For once, Legate Rikke had to agree with her General. For once.

* * *

Alodie wondered how Mjoll was doing as he followed the cave river, glancing down the waterfall into the small pond below. An undead Nord slowly stalked a man-made stone path, unaware of the Imperial above it. He took out his knife and aimed for the thing's head, throwing it with a quick flip of his wrist. The knife hit its mark, the draugr splashing into the waters below. He winced, hoping that there weren't any other undead beings in the next room. A fortunate pattern with the draugr however, was that they were as stupid as drunken goblins.

He continued into the next room, feeling the wall as all light disappeared. He began relying on his other senses not wanting to risk a torch. He found that the place was swarming unnaturally of the undead – in Cyrodiil this would mean necromancer. But the bandits of this hole weren't smart enough to be summoning the undead in droves. No…something else wanted to protect this place. And he would find out why.

He ended up in front of swishing blades, the undead behind him oblivious to where he was. He used the darkness to his advantage while using the undead's stupidity as a benefit. He was now between a sharp scythe and a few angry spirits. Much worse than a rock and a hard place.

He memorized the swishing blades pattern before making the jump, the blade cutting a bit of his cloak as he stepped in the safe spot. The next blade was moving faster and had an irregular pattern – he could also swear that it was much sharper. The draugr remained oblivious as he fought for his life.

He stepped quickly as the blade came down just as he finished, cutting off a bit of his hair. He swallowed slowly. One wrong move and he could have an entire body part chopped off. Completely un-healable. He didn't even know why he was doing this, he didn't have anything to gain. And yet, he felt as if there were voices calling out to him…telling him to come closer. It was too hard to ignore.

He was one blade away from being safe when one of the undead Nords saw him in the trap and squealed a battle cry in its tongue, rushing towards him. He got a spell ready in case it got to close as it dumbly passed the first blade before being chopped up by the next. He sat down carefully, considering his next movements as a few more stupidly followed their brother – killing themselves on the blades. _Like sheep following the herd_, he thought amusingly.

He noticed that the last blade was raised a bit above the ground, probably wanted to make sure that they cut off the tall of statures heads as well. He easily rolled into the next room before a coffin suddenly opened as he was greeted by another undead. He shot out his readied fireball and the undead went completely up in flames, its dry bones acting as tinder. He grunted as a few others noticed his entrance and began to go on the attack.

Alodie looked behind him at the draugr who were still trying to get at him then at the undead in front of him. He then looked down to his feet, seeing a slippery substance reflecting himself into the stony ground. He smiled before stepping off the oil then aiming his hand to the ground.

The entire floor went up in flames taking the draugr with it. He stepped back to observe his work before his heart grew heavy as he saw the flames. He looked away from the bright fire as it finished eating the oil and the undead Nords' with it. He shook his head.

After that, the undead were scarce. He soon found himself in front of an iron framed door that was slightly ajar. He quickly grew alerted as he opened the double door slowly, edging himself forward. The room was pitch black so he took the torch near the front of the door and lit the walls.

The hall of stories, he assumed. The place that Dunmer had been talking about. He looked the walls over with his torch, seeing a strange looking carving of a man – maybe a god? – and…

…a dragon.

He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as he noticed writing but it wasn't of any sort of language he has seen before. They looked like scratches pressed into stone as if a claw marked it. He touched the markings gently before pulling away, suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded. Alodie shook his head. He continued onward.

He found himself in front of a golden and stone door – almost reminding him of the one in the Rat Ways – but this one was old. Very old. He paused as he saw familiar markings – a bear, butterfly, and owl. He opened his pack to produce the claw and hovered the "key" over the indention in the door before noticing something.

"Owl, bear, bear…" he muttered before looking down at the "key." _Bear, butterfly, owl…_

He soon found that the claw clicked solidly into place after he moved the "puzzle" to the correct position. _These old Nords must have had terrible security issues, _he thought wryly as the door slowly fell into the ground.

He wasn't prepared for what lied beyond that door, however.

The cavern that stretched before him was enormous, stretching so much so that he wouldn't have been surprised if the whole cavern was a hollow mountain. His breath came out in cold gusts as a few snowflakes from above filtered down, collecting near the base of a huge wall.

He barely noticed the stairs as he walked towards the wall, glancing around to see if anything had been following him…

"…**draal**…"

He twisted around towards the wall again. _Strange… I thought I heard—_

"**Dovah—**"

He narrowed is eyes, looking around the wall, seeing if any of those undead monsters were going to appear from behind it. Nothing happened.

"Hello?" he asked unthinkingly. _They aren't going to respond, stupid_, he berated himself.

"**Meyz**…" came the whisper. He shook his head. These whispers were starting to get to him. Was he going crazy? First unexplained feelings, then strange dreams, now weird voices coming from nowhere? He really needed to visit a priest to check his head. Maybe Whiterun—"**Meyz**!" it demanded. He chuckled softly to himself. Maybe he's been alone for far too long. This Barrow was probably getting to his hea—

His eyes widened as the wall began to glow as he stepped closer to it, the weird language highlighting in an abnormal blue. He took a step back hesitantly, suddenly afraid that the wall was going to eat him alive. He heard more voices calling to him and suddenly he felt himself entranced. "**Meyz**!" he heard the voice call amidst the others.

"I'm coming," he muttered softly, almost unconsciously. His vision blurred as he stood in front of the wall. He knelt down and touched one of the scratches.

Then, the light vanished.

He jumped as the strange light disappeared as soon as it came and looked the word over that he had touched. Normally, he wouldn't have known what the strange carving below him said or even meant.

But…he…_knew_.

He trembled as he read the word and understood, taking his hand off the large carving. "_Fus_…" he muttered quietly. He was confused. He shouldn't be able to understand much less _read_ this ancient language and yet he _knew_. He _understood_.

And it scared the living daylights out of him.

Suddenly, before he could even stand, the coffin behind him shuttered. Still dazed from the strange development of the wall, he stood slowly glancing towards the previously ignored coffin. He cursed silently; realizing he completely forgot that he was in a cursed tomb.

The draugr half jumped out of its coffin as if it was glad to be alive again and quickly threw an ice dagger of a spell at the confused Imperial. He ducked fast, the magicka icicle embedding itself into the wall before disappearing. He fumbled quickly with his sword but he couldn't draw before the draugr threw out another spell from its hand, laughing.

Alodie reacted quickly; bringing his hand up to burn the icicle away while he unsheathed his electric sword. The draugr drew its own sword, the ice sharpening and extending its length. He backed up, noticing that the strange wall was behind him as the monster rushed towards him, ice in both hands.

He tried to parry the large sword that descended onto him and yet the undead Nord was too strong for him to hold the vertical slice. He twisted away, catching the draugr off balance before stabbing his knife into its torso. He smirked, thinking that he had won before the undead Nord twisted towards him.

"**Fus ro dah!**" it shouted. He was flung back like a released arrow, twisting in midair before landing heavily into the small river. He grunted, almost certain that he had broken something, trying to stand before the thing tried to kill him again.

His knife still buried in the undead Nord, he relied on his steel sword as he got up, standing in the small river, soaked. He twitched as he felt a pain in his chest – a broken rib. He cursed, seeing the draugr stupidly rush towards him. He didn't know how to heal something like that.

The monster laughed again and taunted him like an injured wolf, flicking his ice onto the ground near his feet. He smirked. _As stupid as this bastard is, he sure knows how to piss me off, doesn't he?_

He readied a fire bolt, throwing his sword into his right hand in a fluid motion. The undead monster flew more taunts that Alodie mysteriously didn't understand. Maybe it was just the one word? He was still confused as to why he could read _fus_ or… force?

He sighed slowly. _How did I know that_?

He wasn't able to answer himself when the monster went on the attack again, placing old feet into the water. Alodie dodged a strike towards his neck to the left while he went for the undead Nord's, flexing himself as quickly as he could. He was not fast enough, however.

The stupid undead Nord saw the strike and faked one to Alodie's right forcing him to parry. Alodie groaned as he found himself fighting a battle of strength once again, one he was rather sure he would lose. As great as he was at swordsmanship, he was never one for brute strength.

He backed up, releasing the dead Nord's sword as he felt a twinge of pain from his chest, diving away from the great sword stroke. He ended up in the river, again, fighting for his life. The draugr stabbed down seeing the defenseless living being below him. Alodie barely twisted out of the way of the sword, only weighing himself down from the water. He took off his cloak as he stood, grabbing his sword that shocked him slightly. The draugr was still trying to get its sword that had been caught in the frozen over water and was only able to look up once before its entire head was severed by Alodie's blade.

Alodie sighed as the body crumbled down to the ground, the sword stuck in the river forever. He bent down, pulling at his knife before realizing that it was stuck on something. Before he could figure out what, the body slowly disintegrated into ashes as he touched the bones revealing both his knife and a heavy stone plaque. On it was more of that language that he couldn't understand seeing that the word "_fus_" was nowhere to be seen on the object.

He lifted it, twisting the object around. He soon found himself staring at a map of Skyrim with more of the weird language inscribed at different locations.

He glanced towards the wall again before stuffing the rock into his empty pack. At least that stupid mage might be of use now.

* * *

"Another round my good man!"

Aerin sighed. "Are you going to only spend your coin on drink?" he asked, confused. He thought that the wizard wanted to improve himself in his arts, maybe buy a few new spell books or enchantments. But here he was, wasting his septims away on _ale_.

It was already evening and Alodie and Mjoll still hadn't returned from their errands. He was growing rather worried. The drunken wizard beside him grabbed his shoulders, shaking him.

"My septims are my septims, eh? No need to go moseying around in other people's… businesses?" he finished with a… question? Aerin wasn't sure with the way the Imperial wizard was speaking.

Orgnar sighed as he went to get the wizard another drink. He thought that this lot would have been leaving soon but they have been ruining his tavern with their loud (or at least just the wizard's) talking. He was worried that Delphine would return soon but he doubted that these two posed any sort of threat to them. He sighed when he saw Camilla walk in, her face filled with anger. She usually came into the Giant to meet with her boyfriend, Sven the Drunk. He didn't know what the girl saw in him.

Aerin glanced over towards the newcomer with relief, glad that he didn't have to spend time with the drunk beside him. He got off of his chair and headed towards the Nord, intending to lose Marcurio's track of attention. Orgnar saw this as he handed Marcurio his drink and sighed.

Camilla sat alone, looking over a small note, and sighed stuffing it into her back pocket. Aerin looked the woman over in confusion before coughing once to get her attention. She jumped.

"Y-yes?" she began hesitantly. He slowly sat on the same bench as her, glancing towards Marcurio.

"I don't know the Imperial over there, alright?" he began quickly. Camilla gave the stranger before her a look before glaring at the wizard. She shook her head.

"I don't care. Go away," she said. Aerin's eyebrows shot up. Maybe the people here weren't as hospitable as they were in the Rift? He scooted away from the Nord, grabbing a spare bottle of mead from the ground, not really caring where it came from.

"You come here often?" he began awkwardly. Camilla moved a bit in her seat, intending on getting this creep away from her. She wanted to be _alone_.

"Yes, actually," she said. Aerin swirled his drink around, glancing up at the Nord. Before he could really say anything, Mjoll busted in – her face full of dirt and grief. Aerin started to suspect the worst. Camilla stood with him strangely while Marcurio ignored the event.

"Mjoll, where have you been?" he began. She was breathing in heavily as if she had been running and her hands were filthy as if she had tumbled in mud. Camilla frowned; looking around to see if Mjoll's other companion was around. He was not.

Mjoll took in a deep breath. "Marcurio," she started. The mage glanced over towards her, his face full of drink. He smiled lethargically.

"Glad to see you beautiful!" he said. Mjoll groaned as she walked quickly towards the drunken wizard, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"We need to go, now!" she commanded. Aerin shuddered.

"Go? Why? Where's Alodie?" he asked.

"He's trapped up there in the barrow," she said. Orgnar stopped in his cleaning, eyes widening. Delphine had just found a secret entrance to the barrow, the one this Alodie was trapped in. Why was this Imperial in the Barrow? What was he doing?

The ex-Blade was searching for clues. She still had a few books from the Blade's old archives, grabbed as she was escaping the fires of Sky Haven Temple. One went into great detail about the walls, she told him, ancient burial ground sites for the old High Kings and Queens of Skyrim. In the old days, the Nords worshipped the dragons like gods and she thought that their burial grounds were a good place to start.

And was she ever correct in her assumptions. Following an ancient pass written in the Akaviri book, she found a back entrance to the Barrow but couldn't get to the wall. She had spent the last week translating the old Akaviri to Tamrielic and found that the_ burial or Bleak Falls Barrow as it was known today, had a map.

A map of dragon burial sites.

She could then calculate when the dragons would appear and at what time. She would finally be closer to finding out where they'd come from.

And now this Imperial, Alodie, was "trapped" inside it. He began to feel a bit suspicious as to the stranger's really reason as to why they came to Riverwood.

Mjoll pushed the mage slightly, Marcurio spilling his own drink. He growled deeply as he tried to move to clean it but failed. He glared at Mjoll.

"What was that for?" he accused. Mjoll pushed the drunk Imperial towards the door, eyeing Aerin.

"Stay here," she told him. His eyes narrowed.

"I'm not going to let you go without—" he didn't finish as she left him with Marcurio who was starting to dangerously leak frost spells. He sighed. He was always left out of the action, wasn't he?

Mjoll exited quickly dragging the drunk Imperial behind her. Before she got anywhere, she bumped into the bard, Sven, who glared at them as they rushed by.

"Watch where you louts are going," he said – mostly to himself since Mjoll was carrying Marcurio away at such a fast speed. The wizard, still a bit tipsy, held his ale tankard up that he coincidentally stole as the warrior led him away.

"You want a drink too, eh?" he laughed once, a flame spell releasing from his hand accidently. The brush beside them went up in flames. Mjoll stopped, her eyes widening. "Heh…opps," he said before flicking his hand to get rid of the flames, a dead bush replacing the once lush one. Mjoll glared at him.

"Pick up the pace; we need to help Alodie before that idiot—"

"You need to help who?" said a voice from the inn. She turned towards it and found Alodie there behind her leaning against the inn's pillar, smirking. He waved the golden claw at her as if taunting her, a very annoying smile lighting his face. She glared at him, confused.

"How did –? What did you – ?"

"There happened to be a convenient back entrance to the Barrow. Funny. We could've gone that way if we'd wanted to," he said, shrugging. Mjoll still couldn't believe that he had actually survived the place by himself. The times that she went, she either had to go prepared – which he hadn't been – or get a team of other adventures – which he didn't have. All while holding onto the claw.

Maybe she just worried too much. Maybe the Barrow was not as infested as she thought it had been. He walked – more like limped – over to them, handing Mjoll the claw. She narrowed her eyes.

"You idiot," she said, taking the claw. She grimaced as she noticed the dried blood but none of it seemed to have come from Alodie, fortunately. She smiled as he headed into the Sleeping Giant, shaking her head.

Alodie was surprised to see the place empty except for the merchant from earlier and the bard. The bar tender glared daggers at him as usual, Aerin sitting tiredly at the bar. He looked over then.

"Right…_trapped_," he muttered sarcastically, sipping at his ale. Mjoll dragged Marcurio back in who was only happy to come back inside. Alodie nodded once, sitting precariously at the bar – his chest still in pain. He would demand a healing potion from that gluttonous pig Lucan in the morning. For now, he needed to rest. He hadn't expected to spend another night at the Giant but he wasn't too fazed at wasting one day doing favors. As long as he got what he deserved, he was fine.

He groaned as he went through his pack, seeing the low amount of septims he had on his person. He glanced towards Marcurio who was pretty much dead to the world, hitting on Camilla – the bard not taking too kindly to the act. He stood up slowly and headed towards him, Mjoll watching him over like a hawk.

"What yah talking about you Nord? I'm not 'hitting' on nobody. You must have a rather overprotective mate, my lady," he said taking a drink from his empty tankard. Sven glared at the wizard as Alodie stepped towards them, reaching out to Marcurio's belt. He snatched the bag of gold from his belt soundlessly, Marcurio turning to glare at him.

"And just where are you taking my money?" he half-sputtered half-yelled. Alodie ignored the mage as he took his gold back, taking around fifty septims from the purse and placing it on the bar. Orgnar looked up for a split second before returning to the mug in his hand. Alodie paused, waiting for the man to take the gold. But he didn't.

"We are spending another night," he said, growing worried. Orgnar continued to scrub at the tankard.

"Inn keepers out. It's not my place to give out rooms," he said. Alodie's mouth gaped along with Mjoll who stepped beside him. The Imperial closed his mouth gently.

"And where exactly _is_ the inn keeper?" he asked darkly. Orgnar stopped washing the cup to glare dangerously at the Imperial. Alodie wondered, were the people here spies? For the Empire or the Stormcloaks? Pentius Oculatus? What were they doing here? Riverwood was a small town, no one except travelers ever stopped here.

He then remembered the Barrow and the Wall. Was it somehow important? Did it have to do with the dragons?

And this Delphine… who was she?

Before he could ask those questions, Orgnar bent over the bar, still glaring at him.

"I'm going to give you one warning, stranger. Get out of our inn. We don't want any trouble." He pushed the gold coins forward though Alodie ignored them, eyeing the bar tender with suspicion. _We can't have people catch onto us_, he remembered Delphine telling him. _If they spend another night in my inn, kick them out._

Although his companions seemed harmless, the man Alodie was dangerous. He could find out their secret in an instant. And once he did, Orgnar would have to kill him. Kill all of them. And he didn't want that.

Alodie, seeing that the bar tender would not back down, sighed, stepping away from the bar. Mjoll frowned at Alodie, seeing how they didn't have anywhere to spend the night. The Imperial looked towards Camilla, grabbing the claw from Mjoll's hands. Comilla looked up, surprised at the Imperial's arrival and jumped as he shoved the claw into her hands.

"You won't mind if I take two horses off your hands, right?" he said. She nodded once looking towards Mjoll and Aerin who were as silent as falmer. She would explain to Lucan in the morning. Marcurio sighed once, glaring at the bar tender.

"You have to be such a party pooper, don't you? I wanted just one more drink. One more!" The mage shook his head, shoveling the gold into his robes. Orgnar didn't comment. He didn't want to. Before they all left, he noticed that the Imperial's sack was a bit heavier looking than normal. As the group of strangers all filed away he sighed.

Probably nothing.

* * *

Hadvar sighed as he sat in the Winking Skeever Inn, savoring his mead before he returned to his guard duty in Solitude. He just returned with the Legion a few days ago and already he was missing home. He glanced over towards the Bard, singing about the Dragonborn, before finishing his tankard, placing his hard earned gold onto the bar.

Vinius, the owner, smiled. "On the house, friend. The Empire does a lot to help the citizens of Solitude," he said. The Imperial soldier doubted they really helped anyone though. Hadvar frowned before taking the gold off the table, not wanting to argue with the man. He exited when the bard finished her last few notes, sighing in melancholy. He really needed to go on another campaign.

The streets of Solitude were silent, only a few beggars crawled about its streets. Hadvar glanced up at the festive decorations – remembering that the Burning of King Olaf Festival was this month. The month of Heartfire. He also remembered that the Jarl didn't want to go through with it; the festival was – after all – about burning High Kings. And their High King just died a few months ago.

No one in Skyrim was in a festive mood anyway. Even if it was the New Life Festival people still wouldn't want to celebrate. The Civil War had torn the people apart. Including him.

He headed towards the Legion's outpost, ready for another night of paperwork and patrol. Both of which he loathed.

He never felt at home in Solitude. The Imperial stone walls and perfectly aligned streets were too different from home where trees grew where they wanted to, not where they were planted to. His father had been a legionnaire, like him, and had lived through and died during the Great War. When recruitment for the Imperial Legion started, he just had to sign up. For himself and his father.

His uncle, Alvor, worried over him like a mother hen. He had lived with him after his father had died and grew to know the ways of the forge in Riverwood. And that was where he met Ralof. The damned traitor.

He spit onto the side of the road, close to a conniving Argonian who bared him his teeth. He didn't pay any attention to the lizard however as he climbed the hill towards Castle Dour. He passed a few soldiers to which he saluted but he never really made eye contact. He was never out to make friends when he joined the legion – unlike someone he knew. All that mattered to him was that Skyrim was to be made whole again. And free.

He entered the barracks, grabbing a sword along with a helmet. He shrugged the light device over his head before glancing over towards the sleeping forms of his fellow soldiers. Before he went to leave, the Captain – who sat on his desk in the next room – called out to him.

"Legionnaire Hadvar," he said. Hadvar glanced over to the Captain before closing the distance between them, saluting.

"What is it, Captain?" he asked. The Captain motioned to the empty chair in front of him which he gladly took. Captain Aldis groaned, fatigued, and handed Hadvar a scroll.

"The Legion has a new mission for you, soldier. You are to report to Whiterun and give this report to Jarl Balgruuf," he said. Hadvar took the scroll hesitantly, glancing up at the older Nord. He was going back to Whiterun? Why? He tried to reason with Balgruuf while he was there but it was no use. He was completely neutral. Nothing would change his mind. Not this scroll, not anything.

When Captain Aldis saw the doubt in Hadvar's eyes, he sighed. "They are forged battle plans. In them, Ulfric is going to attack Whiterun on the eve of Frostfall when Whiterun's supplies are usually low. The Oculatus forged the documents. All we need is someone Balgruuf trusts," he said, sadly. Hadvar narrowed his eyes.

"Excuse me Captain but… isn't this a bit wrong? What if Balgruuf finds out that these are false?" Hadvar asked. Aldis sighed.

"I…I don't know, lad. But most of what is in that document is true," he said. "General Tullius has informed me that already the Stormcloak rebels are sending their soldiers to the base of the Throat of the World through the pass. It's only a matter of time."

Hadvar frowned. He didn't like the idea of lying to the Jarl – even if it was for his own people's protection – but to say that Ulfric _wanted_ to attack him? He squeezed the scroll around his hands.

"Alright, Captain… I'll see what I can do," he said.

It's not as if he could say no anyway.

* * *

"I don't think it's such a good idea. Riding at night that is," Mjoll said, riding on the dark mare they took from the stables. Alodie glanced over to her and Aerin, ignoring Marcurio.

"We don't really have much of a choice now, do we?" he responded. Marcurio, who was lagging behind, hiccupped, coving his mouth.

"Excuse me," he muttered. Alodie turned to glare at him. The mage was still drunk from his splurge at the inn and he hoped that the foolish man collapsed so that he could simply leave him on the side of the road. Well, at least not before he showed him the stone.

He pulled his horse back, gaining a confused look from Mjoll and Aerin. He glared at the mage who hadn't noticed his presence before smacking him lightly on the forehead. The mage frowned, glaring at Alodie.

"You really don't like me, do you?" he said, rubbing his forehead. Alodie ignored the comment, taking the heavy stone out of his pack. Marcurio wasn't expecting such a heavy object to be shoved towards him causing him to yelp as he caught the stone. Alodie sighed.

"Translate it," he said. Mjoll pulled back a bit along with Aerin who was looking at the stone curiously. It was ancient, probably thousands of years old. The mage raised his eyebrows as he looked it over, turning it around. He smirked.

"It'll cost yah," he said, holding his hand out. Alodie narrowed his eyes before turning around.

"Then you are of no use to me," he said coldly. Marcurio waved his hand.

"Wait, wait, sheesh," he said. The mage handed the Imperial the stone, turning his attention the road again. "What you have right there is a map."

Alodie rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have guessed," he said. Marcurio grinned.

"So you do have a sense of humor after all," the mage said. Alodie didn't respond as he motioned his horse forward causing Marcurio to rush to his side. Both Mjoll and Aerin tried to pay attention but the dark road beside them made them weary – remembering what happened to Alodie a few nights before. The wizard frowned. "Normally, I would probably know nothing about this…if I weren't already an expert on Nordic history! I can't translate it though. It's an old language – extinct even. Well…at least not anymore," he said. Alodie looked over to Marcurio.

"What do you mean 'not anymore'?" he asked. The wizard looked towards the stone.

"It's in the dragon's language. Since they're back, it's not extinct," he said. He continued. "They say that the Thu'um was the voice of the dragons. The Greybeards are supposed to be the masters of that and no one really knows how to read it except them. Those cagey bastards."

Alodie slowly looked back towards the road, narrowing his eyes. And yet he was able to read it. He didn't know how or why… maybe it was a fluke. The draugr probably casted some sort of spell. He really hoped that nothing strange happened to him while he was in there.

Mjoll noticed Alodie's silence and came up to him slowly, both of them far enough away not to be heard by Aerin and Marcurio.

"What else did you find there?" she asked. Alod glanced quickly at her before returning his attention to the reins.

"A few undead, a couple of ancient writings, and that stone. That's all," he said. Mjoll grinned, getting closer.

"You aren't a good liar, are you?" she said, chuckling. Alodie shrugged, smirking towards her.

"I don't try to be," he said. Mjoll frowned, glancing towards the road. She didn't really know much about the Imperial beside her, she realized. For all she knew, he could end up being an assassin. Or used to be one. Whenever he lied to her, it only increased the rift between them – between all of them. She wondered what exactly it was that he wanted to hide, why he even wanted to hide. If only he just came out and said it…

She huffed turning away from him. The ex-spy noticed how uncomfortable Mjoll suddenly seemed around him and groaned, rubbing his temple. "I also found a wall," he said. She looked over towards him.

"A wall?"

"Yes," he said.

"And what was on the wall?" she asked, growing impatient. The two behind her were slowly gaining in distance so the drunken mage, Marcurio, heard her.

"What wall?" he asked.

Alodie sighed, shaking the reins to gain speed. "Nothing. Just… forget it," he said. Mjoll eased her horse forward.

"No, I'm not just going to 'forget it,'" she said, "Tell me."

Alodie glared straight ahead before giving up, realizing that it was no use. It was just…impossible. No one would believe him – especially Mjoll. Would they believe that he was hearing weird voices? No. Would they believe him if he said the wall suddenly glowed and he learned a strange word that only dragons or Greybeards – or whoever they were – could read? No, a thousand times no. He decided not to look ahead when he told them the truth.

"The wall…had the dragon's language on it," he began. He realized that his horse was slowing down as he spoke but didn't attempt to correct it, glancing down in confusion. "But…it was weird. It…_spoke_ to me. Like it was alive." He looked directly in Mjoll's eyes. "Like it was there."

Mjoll along with Marcurio and Aerin grew silent, Aerin glancing back towards the Barrow nervously. Mjoll visibly shook, remembering how creepy the place had been. She promised herself that she would never step foot in another Barrow for the rest of her life.

Marcurio's face, however, grew strangely serious, staring curiously towards Alodie. He edged his horse closer, ignoring Aerin's protests to not bump into him. Alodie was surprised to see the mage suddenly beside him and glared openly at the drunk.

"What do you want?" he said bitterly. For once, the mage didn't come up with any comebacks.

"What did it say? Do you remember?" he asked. Alodie looked the mage over once before turning his head away swiftly.

"I don't know. It – I didn't even understand a word of it," he lied. He seemed to be doing a lot of that recently.

Marcurio, still doubtful, cracked a smile – returning to his jolly self.

"Oh. Well, I guess there is no need to worry."

But Alodie did worry. Because he remembered. He muttered it over and over again in his head before reverting to its translation.

_Fus_…

_Force._

* * *

**I might not be able to upload more chapters for awhile since I have to do summer homework (that I waited until last minute to do of course -_-) I'll be back though once I stop procrastinating real life. Sigh... **

**And review! **

**_Please_? :)**

_Hinode~Dawn_


	14. Eyes of Steel

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_"Some nights, I dream of the mists of Sovngarde."_

―Kodlak Whitemane

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Eyes of Steel**

_He couldn't believe his eyes. _

_All that he had lived for. All that he had dreamed of. _

_Gone with the ashes. Forever._

_He was suddenly thrown to the ground, biting into his cheek, tasting his own blood. The bindings on his wrists were tugged on fiercely as his captor lifted his head so that he could see what he had done. What he didn't want to do._

_Eiruki was in that fire. Burning alive. And he couldn't save her._

_He would've cried then, but he had no more tears left. They burnt up too._

"_She burned like all traitors," his captor whispered. "And you shall join her too. Soon enough."_

_He was confused. Why didn't they kill him now and save themselves the trouble? Were they going to torture him? Savor any sort of pain that he could still endure out of him? _

_He went to look up at his captor but before he could get a decent look his head was kicked in. Blood ran down his nose like one of the Imperial Garden's fountains and he was pretty sure that it was broken. He heard another set of footsteps come up beside him. He saw the figure bend down towards him through blurred vision and it took him an immense amount of tolerance to not spit in that persons face._

_He looked at him with pity. "Enough, Quill," he said. The Khajiit released him onto the dirt and he made no motion to glance back up at her. Instead he glared at the guilty man before him, intent on killing him if he made the wrong moves. _

_The Imperial was an Elder Councilman. His shrewd looks disguised his cruel campaigns. _

_For he was going to kill an Emperor. _

"_Alodie," he said quietly. His bright eyes shone with vengeance. "If only you had agreed. This would have so much easier for you," he trailed off, "…and her." Alodie couldn't hold back anymore. He spat at the man's boots, causing his pet to slam his head onto the dirt with her foot. The Khajiit pulled at his hair, holding a knife to his neck. He was forced into submission. _

"_It will _never_ work," he said softly, talking only much as his energy allowed. Although Commander Maro thought that it was he who was the traitor, he knew that only gods could kill the Emperor. The Oculatus was there for a reason. _

_The Councilman smiled. "You put too much faith into a faction that has exiled you." He laughed. "Did you really think that they would believe you?" Alodie felt weak, exhausted. He just wished that Quill would finish the job already. How much more torment did he have to go through until the end?_

"_No." The politician sighed. "Of course not." He stood up and began to walk toward Quill who still had him in a tight hold. He suddenly felt that hold loosen, his head being released of the pressure. He was pulled up and that was when he noticed that the fire was beginning to die down and felt the rain that was replacing it. The hold on him was like he was on a noose, dangling as his life was draining from his very body. _

_The ashes that were once his house blew in the wind and into the lake beside them. Some of those ashes being his sister. He would have screamed but he already screamed enough. If he was hanging from a noose, then it wasn't killing him fast enough._

_The Councilman continued to walk away, a few Oculatus soldiers standing beside a pristine carriage, the Empire's banner marked on the sides. Alodie was forced to his feet by Quill, her dagger poking dangerously onto his back. He was still confused._

"_Why not kill me now?" he asked. _

_He heard the Councilman stopped walking. The footsteps of the traitor edged closer to him, so close that he could feel his breath on the hairs of his neck. _

"_The Thalmor want you for…a different reason."_

* * *

"Gods, get up already!" he heard Mjoll shout off into the distance as he returned to the land of the living. At first, he felt his entire body – the bed strangely wet. He took stock of himself and realized that it was sweat. Mjoll stood above him, prepared to hit him with what looked like a pot.

Seeing him awake, the warrior swallowed nervously – putting the pot down.

They were in Whiterun in the Bannered Mare and it was midday. The trip to the capital of Whiterun Hold hadn't been too long, a day at the very least. When they got there near midnight, the guards had a huge fit about not letting anyone in except for "official business only." Alodie sighed. Just what type of business did he have to have in order to go inside a _city_?

They were easily convinced, however, by Marcurio. The mage was slowly becoming a bit useful, Alodie mused. It only took one charm spell from the wizard on both of the guards to let them in. Unfortunately, Marcurio warned them that they would probably get angry if they saw him again. Which was likely, considering his luck.

When they got to the inn, his client wasn't there. When the inn keeper showed him his room, he asked. Apparently he had already retired for the night. He thought that odd seeing as how there were many people in the town merrymaking after midnight.

He narrowed his eyes at Mjoll who was smirking at him now. He raised one eyebrow. "And what, exactly, were you doing with a pot in your hands?" he asked.

Mjoll laughed nervously. "I was going to…well, you know… give you a present. Is it your birthday?" she asked. Alodie rolled his eyes, getting up.

"No," he said bluntly. Mjoll nodded her head, turning away slightly – seeing as how he was half naked. Before she did though, she noticed the amount of scars he had all over his torso. She remembered them when she was dressing his wounds earlier but she never really got the chance to consider them. That and how lightly built he was for a warrior. Well…thief. But when she fought with him at that tower, it was as if he had been a warrior. Of some type.

Alodie paused as he noticed Mjoll staring at him strangely, a small blush lighting her features. He glanced down, realizing his state, and sighed deeply – grabbing his tunic. For once, he wished he had gotten up earlier. Before she did.

"Where's Aerin?" he asked as he got himself dressed, standing. Mjoll looked over towards him, relieved that he had something on. She was afraid that she would burst out into questions again. Intruding ones.

"He went out with Marcurio to get supplies," she said. Alodie frowned. Those two seemed to be getting along strangely. Either that or Marcurio liked to follow him. He was pretty sure that it was the former.

"Where?"

Mjoll shrugged. "I don't know – what I do know is that we are running out of gold. Fast," she said. Alodie sighed. He knew that this day would come. Marcurio had insisted that he have his gold back as they entered the tavern and since Alodie didn't want to hear him whine about it all the time, he threw it to him.

Maybe he could steal some, he thought. After all, he was a part of the Thieves Guild now. Might as well keep up that sort of image. Mjoll glared at him as if reading his mind. "No, absolutely not," she said.

Alodie frowned. "Just enough to get us by – I won't go raiding the Jarl's palace," he reasoned.

Mjoll sighed fiercely. "I just can't believe you. You say that you don't want to be a thief but you still steal anyway?" she said accusingly. She just couldn't believe him. What happened to the honor that she thought was in him. Was it just a mirage? Was she looking for something that wasn't there?

The young Imperial sighed, heading towards the dresser where his armor laid. He picked it up and fastening it on, throwing his cloak over his shoulder, slipping on the boots beside him. "I don't really care what you think, Mjoll," he said.

"Well you should," she retorted. "What type of warrior are you? You go sulking in the middle of the night and steal some poor old lady's jewelry?"

Alodie looked up, appalled. "Wait… you think I'm a _warrior_?" he said in complete shock. His mouth turned up into a grin. "I really don't know what world you've been living in but…I'm no warrior."

"Then how, exactly, did you get all of those scars?" she asked, determined.

The young Imperial suddenly closed his mouth, frowning. Mjoll noticed a small light in his eyes die then as he turned away towards the door. "That's none of your business," he muttered, opening the door forcefully. Mjoll watched as he exited before sighing. She really screwed up again somehow, didn't she?

When Alodie got to the bottom of the stairs, he immediately saw an unfamiliar face. One that was most likely his client. He turned around to look at Mjoll who followed behind him slowly. She suddenly saw Alodie glide to her side, his intense face glaring up towards her.

"I have to sort out something," he said, eyeing his client. Mjoll glanced over, seeing an Imperial sitting innocently in the corner, sipping at some tea. She narrowed her eyes.

"Let me guess, Thieves Guild business?" she said disdainfully. She just wished that he stopped doing Maven's work for her already. She wanted to tell him this but the words never came to her mouth.

Alodie frowned. "Just make yourself scarce for now while I deal with it. I don't care what you do, just meet me back here when you're done," he said. Mjoll smirked. It was like he was her mother or something.

"Fine, fine. I really don't care anymore. Go ahead and get yourself killed," she said.

Alodie smirked. "I'll try."

She narrowed her eyes. He really liked to piss her off, didn't he? That whole thing where he just ignored her as she walked was all a joke to him. He was probably laughing at her the entire time. She huffed, leaving the inn in a complete rage.

Outside, she was met with the fierce winds of early Autumn and shook slightly from the sudden cold. The market square was filled with people of all types – Breton, Argonian, Khajiit, Imperial, Dunmer, Redguard – all of them. Some people called it the Imperial City of Skyrim. She could see why.

She stretched, observing the old walls that surrounded the city on the hill. Before her was the market, merchants yelled prices to passerby, a few soldiers rushed through the crowd – probably chasing a pickpocket – and many children laughed as they played a simple game of tag. It was as if war didn't even exist in the city of Whiterun. And war didn't exist in Whiterun. Being the only neutral Hold, Whiterun had escaped the burdens of war. Whether that was good thing… Mjoll wasn't sure.

She decided to take a brisk walk, get all of the idle thoughts out of her head. She glared at a prospective beggar-pickpocket who shied away meekly. She walked passed a forge, the fires rising as the smith pulled the cord, pulling out red metal. She noticed, strangely, an Imperial soldier talking to her profusely but she couldn't hear their conversation as she kept walking.

She soon found herself in a square, both citizens and soldiers relaxed under the pink blossomed tree. The Gildergreen. She remembered coming to Whiterun years ago and seeing the blessed tree. The tree that never died.

Before she could relax underneath the branches, an annoying voice drifted towards her followed by the loud voices of a crowd. She was drawn towards it curiously seeing warriors and citizens mixed in the mob.

"But you were once man! _Aye_! And as man, you said, 'Let me show you the power of _Talos Stormcrown_, born of the North, where my breath is _long winter_! I breathe _now_, in royalty, and reshape this land –which is mine. I do this for you, Red Legions, for I _love you!'"_ yelled a haughty priest. He stood beside a statue of Talos – a shrine. Or, at least what was once one.

She noticed the imprint of where an alter had once stood – one which was now broken – and frowned as she stepped away from the crowd. "Aye, love. Love! Even as man, great Talos cherished us! For he saw in us, in each of us, the future of Skyrim!" he yelled. "The future of Tamriel!"

His voice was starting to annoy her; the fool was spreading his own propaganda around. She wouldn't be surprised if he was lynched on the spot. He was obviously mad.

She continued to listen after a while, though she was quickly growing tired of his speech. "And what does the Empire do? _Nothing_! Nay, worse than nothing! The Imperial machine enforces the will of the Thalmor! Against its own people!" She sighed deeply. She really had to get out of there. A few people in the mob were considering it as well while some threw insults at the foolish man. "So _rise up_! Rise up, children of the Empire! Rise up, Stormcloaks! Embrace the word of mighty Talos, he who is both man _and_ Divine!"

"Ah, so you're a Stormcloak lover, is that is?" called out a buff looking Nord – probably had more muscle then brain. A bearded fur cloaked Nord responded.

"Shut your trap, Battle-Born. We already know where your loyalties lie," yelled the man. The one named Battle-Born grew red, balling his hands into a fist.

"At least I keep them, Grey-Mane," the Battle-Born said, smirking. The crowd suddenly grew two sides and the city that had once appeared to be without war soon became one. Before the two could go on the attack, Whiterun soldiers suddenly ran towards the crowd, holding the two Nords back.

"That enough!" yelled a bald old man – most likely the captain of the guard. The Whiterun soldier held a few other people back as one headed towards the priest, causing him to quiet down. "I suggest you go home, Heimskr. You've caused us enough trouble."

The priest looked ready to argue but the guards didn't give him any room to, shoving him off the top of his makeshift platform. "Trust in me, Whiterun! Trust in the words of Heimskr! For I am the chosen of Talos! I alone have been anointed by the Ninth to spread his holy word!" The crowd still didn't seem calm enough after his final words, the mad man finally shutting up.

Mjoll took this time to leave, painful memories beginning to flood back to her. She made herself scarce by climbing another set of stairs to the right of the statue, seeing a familiar and yet welcome building. The mead hall of Jorrvaskr. She smiled.

The last time she was here, she never had the chance to visit the hall. She imagined the warriors from within, drinking from each other's tankards as if they were in Sovngarde, practicing their swordsmanship with each other with finesse. And now that she had time on her hands, she didn't see why not.

Once she opened the doors to the mead hall, yelling erupted from inside.

"Hit harder Ria!" came the yelling. She saw a Dunmer fighting a small woman who growled deeply as he hit her straight in the jaw. She didn't back down though, backhanding him with her fist that sent him reeling.

"You tempted me once Athis but not again! Not this time you fetcher!" The woman made a roundhouse kick at the Dunmer which caused him to be thrown halfway across the room. Many of the warriors cringed in concerned, some hooted for the fight to continue.

Mjoll simply stared down at the group of warriors, completely and utterly shocked.

Right_…finesse…_

They were not what Mjoll had expected them to be at all. Here they were, the great and mighty Companions! Messing around like pathetic fools…

The Dunmer stood up, ready for action. "I was only telling you the truth!" he yelled, blocking a punch towards his torso. Ria smirked as she tripped Aldis who fell over yet again.

"No one says that I have a 'big arse' you good for nothing perv!" she yelled.

Mjoll decided to turn around then. She must have walked into the wrong mead hall. Maybe the real one was behind this one?

A few laughed at Ria's comment while a hawk-eyed Nord with a deep frown stepped forward.

"Dodge left Aldis. That's it, nice and easy," he instructed the Dunmer. Mjoll stopped, glancing towards the older Nord with curiosity. She had almost lost hope in this group of warriors – thinking that they were simply mercenaries. But maybe some of them had some honor. She had to give them a chance.

Before she stepped forward, a lithe looking Nord stepped beside her, glaring daggers at her up and down.

"Are you looking for a battle or are you looking for the door?" she asked. The Nord wore war paint like hers on her face and had a bow strung on her back. Mjoll guessed correctly that she was a hunter.

"Hopefully a battle," she replied smartly, edging away from the door in response. The warrior smiled.

"I like you. You might become a great shield-sister someday," she said. Mjoll raised her eyebrows. Her, a shield-sister? She smiled. Where did she sign up?

The fight below them suddenly interrupted her thoughts like a bad omen, the one named Ria flying past her into the benches. The woman shook her head, regaining her balance. She growled.

"Watch it, Ria. Take your fight outside," the hunter said, sighing. Mjoll wondered if she had to deal with this often. Ria smirked at the hunter, nodding once.

"You got it Aela," she said. Before she left, she glanced once at Mjoll before grinning wildly at her. She pointed to Aldis. "You. Me. Out in the yards," she said. Aldis couldn't respond since Ria was already dragging the poor Dunmer outside like an old man did to beat his mutt. Mjoll couldn't help but smirk at the image.

The man from before came up to Aela now, frowning at the sight of Mjoll. "What are you doing now, Aela?" he asked, glaring openly at Mjoll. "And who is she?"

"A prospective shield-sister," she said, pushing Mjoll forward. The warrior narrowed her eyes. She hadn't exactly decided on anything yet…after all, she still had Alodie and his crew to look after. She still had a mission to carry out, although she didn't exactly know what.

The Nord smirked, his bald head shining underneath the light of the fires. "I see…well, Kodlak is seeing Vilkas right now about the little…incident… so I'm not sure if that's a good idea," he said. Aela rolled her eyes, grabbing Mjoll by her wrist, edging her forward.

"He simply needs to learn control, Skjor. It's bad enough that Kodlak is even paying him any attention. He gets enough of it as it is," she said. Mjoll frowned, wondering what these two were talking about. Skjor nodded once but still looked doubtful.

"Alright…but don't expect him to be too happy about it," he said. He left the two of them then, heading towards the yard. Aela sighed, smirking.

"He really brightens the mood, doesn't he?" she said cynically. She looked up at Mjoll. "Come on, I'll show you to Kodlak."

* * *

Aerin sighed, hefting up a large bag that Marcurio forced onto him. He hadn't wanted the mage to follow him on his small shopping trip in the market but unfortunately for him, the mage had insisted. As he thought this, Marcurio picked up a random herb from the stall beside them and sniffed it. The merchant glared at the mage, appalled that he had picked it up before buying. The wizard, not helping the situation, sneeze violently into the man's face. Marcurio smiled nervously.

"Excuse me," he said innocently. Aerin sighed.

The two continued to browse, Marcurio intent on buying some more ingredients to replenish the supply he used on Alodie. Although Mjoll hated him for demanding pay for his services, the ingredients he used cost him a fortune to procure. Fortunately for him, Whiterun was the trading city of Skyrim and finding the replacement ingredients came very easily – though at a steep price.

He sighed. _I guess I can't have any ale tonight_, he thought, saddened. Aerin noticed the wizard's depression and immediately suspected that he had done something wrong.

"What did you do?" Aerin asked. Marcurio smirked.

"Nothing. What, you think my sneeze casted a curse on the poor bloke?" he retorted. Aerin rolled his eyes.

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me," he said. Marcurio laughed loudly causing a few Cloud District nobles to glare at him.

When he quieted down, he answered. "Right you are there, my friend. Right you are."

Aerin frowned as they climbed up the steps towards the Wind District, a calm breeze billowed his muddled hair. "Who are you anyway?" he asked. "Actually, you haven't said much about yourself at all after you stalked us all the way to Whiterun…"

Marcurio grinned, happy that the man was so curious about him. He doubted that none of them had cared before – until now.

Aerin regretted even asking.

"It's nice of you to ask my little friend but you see…my personal life is just that. Personal."

Aerin narrowed his eyes at the answer. "That really isn't helping your case," he said.

Marcurio shrugged. "I am a mercenary. I exchange my fire for some hard earned cash," he said. "What more could you ask for?"

_Maybe some peace and quiet_, Aerin retorted but remained silent. He glanced up before noticing how late it was getting, sighing as he fixed his bag of random junk on his shoulder. He didn't even know what Marcurio wanted to do with most of the crap he bought. A flaming mortar pedestal and a few weeds weren't going to help them get money. Maybe if he turned water into gold.

Marcurio smiled. "You know what, I'll humor you," he said. Aerin frowned. _Please don't._ "I was born in a land far away, riddled with political struggles and petty disputes," he began. "As you already guessed, I'm talking about Cyrodiil." Marcurio sat quickly on a bench beside the tree, crossing his arms and lifting his feet to take the entire bench over. Aerin remained standing. "My father was a snobby Synod conjurer – the only things those damnable wizards cared about were the bloody eight divines and whether they got to sit their asses on their high chairs."

He laughed, shaking the bench. A few priests to Kynareth glared at him as they passed, annoyed that their prayers had been disrupted. "I cared nothing for religion. I still care nothing for it. It is only a way to oppress the people, nothing more. I mean, just look at the state Skyrim is in." He waved his hand towards the statue of Talos, the sword that the god held broken in half.

Aerin frowned. "What is oppressive is your attitude," he said. Marcurio grinned at the other Imperial.

"I'm guessing that you were not born in Cyrodiil then?" he asked. He had lived long enough in the capital province to know that most people – besides the Synod – were other wisely secular. Aerin came across to him as being rather monotonous in his cultured ways – the complete opposite of Imperial culture yet similar to the indoctrinated ways of the Nords.

Aerin crossed his arms. "I was born in Skyrim," he said.

Marcurio smirked. "Everything makes complete sense now," he muttered. Aerin glared at him but made no moves to correct him. Whatever the barbaric Imperial wanted to think of him, he didn't care. It was obvious that the only thing the mercenary cared for was his drink and septims, nothing else.

When Marcurio glanced up into the sky, he noticed Secunda's prominent ring of blue and sat up. "We should probably head back," he said.

Before he went to get up, they heard many voices coming from the main gates – guards leaving their post to go towards the commotion. He sat up and glanced at Aerin who frowned. The smaller Imperial nodded once their eyes met and they headed towards the gates, prepared for anything.

They noticed that a large crowd had formed, a Dark Elf along with a few guards being to sole thing holding anyone back. "There is nothing here to see, citizens. Return to your homes," the Dark Elf yelled. Many protested while others decided to give up and follow the Dunmer's orders.

"They said that a dragon was sighted out there!" yelled one woman. A man pushed the woman slightly aside.

"We need to evacuate the people if a dragon is going to attack," he insisted.

"Jon, don't…go out there. Please," the woman said. The one man named Jon turned around to face the Nord woman, holding her face.

"I would never abandon you," he said smiling before quickly letting go of her as if he had seen someone.

The Dark Elf glared at the populous. "A dragon isn't going to be attacking Whiterun anytime soon. Now, please, go back to your business," she insisted. A few more people dispersed, a stubborn few remaining.

"What about Riverwood? My son lives there!" yelled an elderly woman. The Dark Elf sighed.

"Riverwood is all taken care of miss. You have no need to worry." It was obvious to Aerin that the Dunmer was quickly growing impatient of the mob's fear. She looked as if she didn't even want this information to go out to the public.

Irileth sighed as she tried to gather herself and her patience. The reports were all the same, a dragon had been sighted out in the southern mountains and had begun raiding the roads to the west. Already, a Khajiit caravan had been burned to bits along with a few patrols near the fort. It was only a matter of time before the dragon decided to hit Whiterun.

She already stationed half the guard out into the western tower. If the dragon was going to attack, it was going to hit there first. She had to send word to the Jarl of course; so she gave out the order to blockade the western roads to prevent further disaster.

She would give the dragon a week. A week to make the first move. Until then, she would be prepared to defend against the impossible.

Once the crowd dispersed, Aerin and Marcurio still hanging back unnoticed by the Dunmer, she yelled out. "I want you to fill the catapults. Make sure the men watch them day and night," she ordered. She still wanted Whiterun to be ready in case the soldiers in the western tower failed. If she failed.

She headed towards Dragonsreach with a heavy heart, ready to give the Jarl the news. Marcurio frowned, a first, Aerin noticed. The wizard glanced over his shoulder to the small Imperial. He still hadn't told them his suspicion about the tablet that Alodie had picked up from the Barrow. And about that wall he also found.

He prayed – a first for him – that the dragon wouldn't attack Whiterun anytime soon.

* * *

Kodlak Whitemane knew that it was only a matter of time. That today was the day.

No, tomorrow was the day. Today was only the prelude. His dreams granted him that at least.

He dreamed of Sovngarde, of course, but what he didn't tell the others was his dream of the dragon. The dark dragon.

And a boy.

No, a man. A dark haired man with eyes of fire. And along with him a woman with hair of gold and eyes of steel. They were here in Whiterun.

It was only a matter of time.

He studied Vilkas carefully, frowning as he told him about his shame, about his succumb to passion.

"They…just screamed. I couldn't stop myself Kodlak. It scared me –_ I _scared me –more than I could even imagine," he said slowly, eyeing the floor. Kodlak sighed. He was getting old. Too old. He only wished that he could rest in Sovngarde along with his ancestors.

"What happened, happened, shield-brother. There was no stopping it," he said. He drank a bit of his tea, the dark liquid slowly emptying from his cup. He blanched at the bitter taste.

Vilkas frowned. "I can only wish to take it all back. Redo the mistakes of the past," he said quietly. They both didn't hear the door in front of them open, Vilkas still in grief. "But that's impossible." They both looked up to see a Nord warrior, her face masked with worry. Kodlak sat back in his seat when his saw the woman, smirking slightly.

He looked closer into her nervous grey eyes before sighing slowly. _No… _

"Who are you?" Vilkas asked the woman, frowning. Mjoll straightened, prepared to speak to the leader of the Companions.

"I-my name is Mjoll the Lioness," she said. Vilkas sat back, pondering her name.

"I have never heard of you. Why have you come to Jorrvaskr?" the dark haired Nord asked. Mjoll just simply stared at the two, entranced. She'd never know that she would actually meet the Harbinger. He was already a living legend. If anyone was going to Sovngarde, it was him.

The old man smiled at her apprehension. "At ease, Vilkas. Sometimes the well-known come to us and yet some come to the Companions in order to seek their fame," he said. Though, the young woman before him seemed a bit hesitant. He took that as good sign and smiled.

Vilkas, however, frowned. "You aren't actually considering her joining the Companions, Kodlak?" he said in complete surprised. She looked like a milk-drinker to him, an admirer of some sort. He hated admirers. They were always so very ignorant that he wanted to pull is hair out.

They all pretended like they had honor but it was a fact that honor had left him as soon as he had been born. As soon as he had joined the Circle. He didn't want this milk-drinker to get involved. Not when she couldn't even look straight at them.

Kodlak frowned slightly. "I know when I see a shield-sister and I feel as if this one has steel in her eyes," he said. Mjoll flushed slightly. She had never been complimented like that before – not when she was surrounded by cold-hearted fiends like Alodie and Marcurio.

Vilkas rolled his eyes, grabbing a tankard. "Right, steel in her eyes. Why don't you stick to your dreams of Sovngarde old man," he said. Kodlak smirked at him, eyeing him devilishly. Mjoll frowned slightly; afraid of what the man before her was thinking about.

"And you, Vilkas will test her," he said. Vilkas immediately scowled – obviously rejecting the idea. Mjoll still didn't find that she even wanted to join the group of glorified mercenaries. But, it was better then returning to Riften and trying to exact a justice that will never come. She'd rather waste her abilities on this group then try and go back.

The man, Vilkas, sighed – standing. "I see no harm in it," he said with deprived enthusiasm. Mjoll didn't blame him. She did, after all, just burst in without even telling them what she wanted. And she didn't look like she'd be one of their clients.

She glanced over towards Kodlak who was smiling innocently at her. He was definitely a strange old man. Mysterious yet wise. If she was going to make her home here, might as well start here where she was clearly welcomed. She wasn't sure if she'd stick around with Alodie forever anyway. He was going to go to Riften eventually – a place where she could never go back to. She only had her trust in him, trust that he could save the city she spent years to protect.

If she was quite honest with herself – and she was – she highly doubted Alod could do anything to help the corrupted city. So, she would help others where she was wanted – here in Whiterun. Hopefully Aerin didn't argue the point.

Vilkas lead her back up to the mead hall, passing the many rooms of the Companions. She had to admit, the smell of the place really made her mouth drool – a mixture of warm honey and roasted pork over a fire. She noticed Ria sitting in a corner drinking from a canteen, half dazed from the fight she had with the Dark Elf. Aela walked over towards her and looked as if she was going to give the younger Nord a lecture. Fortunately, Mjoll wasn't going to be there to see the outcome.

When she got outside, Skjor stood menacingly beside a wooden pillar, gazing towards the mountains in the east. He looked a bit angry as Vilkas approached, grabbing a wooden sword from the racks. Mjoll noticed the action and grabbed one for herself, glancing towards Skjor. The older Nord didn't notice her, ignoring anyone who passed him by. Vilkas slapped her shoulder.

"Ready milk-drinker?" he asked half-serious half-jestingly. Mjoll smirked at the smart ass, lifting her wooden sword. She grunted as she held it up, surprised at the weight. For a piece of wood, it weighed a ton. Vilkas noticed her small struggle and frowned, shaking his head. Kodlak was wasting his time with her.

They both stepped into the yard, practice dummies and targets littered the sides of the miniature arena. A few spectators glanced over when Vilkas entered, noticing that he was going to spar with a newcomer. Mjoll stiffened as Vilkas grabbed a makeshift shield, throwing one towards her. She caught it deftly yet nervous at what was going to happen next.

"Prepare yourself," Vilkas muttered, raising his sword. "I'll just be testing you to see if you can hold your ground." Mjoll snorted. How bigheaded was this brute? Before she could respond, Vilkas went on the attack – a few onlookers raising their voices to the new fight taking place. She ignored their hoots however as she blocked the hit with her shield causing her to reel back at the strength of the blow.

Vilkas didn't even give her time to gather her bearings as he twisted around in another horizontal slice aimed for her head. Mjoll didn't block with her shield this time, parrying nimbly with her wooden sword – the balance of the blade still unaccustomed to her. She grunted as she finally went on the attack, hitting the arrogant Nord with her shield before slashing with her sword.

Vilkas groaned, catching the sword with his shield, taking a step backward. Mjoll smiled at this, realizing that she was finally putting the Companion on the defensive. Her smile soon faded however when the man shrugged her sword off his shield quickly before hitting her head squarely with it. She soon saw stars, her nose burning from the rather loud hit. She heard a few spectators around her still cheering on the fight – some for her, some for Vilkas. But most for Vilkas

The arrogant Nord smirked, seeing that this milk-drinker wasn't made of the right stuff after all. It reminded him of that other war maiden that wanted to join the Companions a few months ago. She was still wallowing in the inn like the milk-drinker she was. Like this warrior before him was.

It was obvious that she would give up. No one could match his prowess of the blade. What surprised him, however, was that instead of laying down her sword, she raised it high into a battle cry. He narrowed his eyes, dodging the blow whilst hitting her back with the wooden sword. Mjoll grunted, stumbling clumsily towards a dummy. She grinded her teeth. The bastard was really playing with her now.

Vilkas however was surprised at her endurance. Most would have thrown their sword down in anger. Most would have flown straight into the mud. But this Nord… he now saw what Kodlak meant. She really did have eyes of steel.

He lowered his sword when Mjoll turned around. He stuck the wooden blade into the soft soil, Mjoll confused. Neither one of them had fallen, even though she had come very close to. This Vilkas looked at her now with a small amount of respect, holding out his hand. Mjoll glared at it.

"Welcome to the Companions, shield-sister," he said. Mjoll didn't make any moves.

"I-it's that easy?" she stuttered. She was expected many more trials after that. Vilkas grinned darkly, lowering his hand.

"You want to keep going?" he asked, a little disappointed. Mjoll shook her head.

"No – I mean – that's it? That's all I need to do?" she asked in surprise. Vilkas narrowed his eyes, glancing towards the sun that was now beginning to set.

"Actually… I want you to do one more thing," he said. He pulled out his sword at his hip and handed the hilt to Mjoll. She glanced the dull blade over before glaring at Vilkas. "I want you to go up to the forge and get that sharpened." He began to walk away, glancing at Skjor who had watched the battle with interest. His face returned to its normal stone cold stature then. "And be careful with it for Ysgramor's sake," he taunted.

Mjoll sighed, lowering her blade. _Congratulations_, she thought bitterly, _you've just become a servant to the Companions_.

* * *

**Yep, Mjoll joined the Companions. Just to warn you – I'm not going to go into detail with the Companions – it'll be more of a side thing. So, if you were looking forward to the Companions storyline… then sorry. I don't want to saturate the story too much with plot. It would just get longer than it already is… maybe as a one-shot or two-shot later. **

**Speaking of which – next chapter is Honningbrew. Don't expect that one to be too detailed either – I need to speed the pacing up a bit. Next chapter might take a while – I'm a senior and have way too many things on my mind right now. Like college (burrrr). But don't worry, I have next chapter written I just need to go over it again.**

**So, until next time!**

_Hinode~Dawn_


	15. Dampened Spirits

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

"_Back to business, Proventus."_

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Dampened Spirits**

Alodie stood before Honningbrew Meadery, holding up a slip of paper from the man Mallus. _A pretty malicious name_, he thought wryly. A few workers attended to the hives near the back while some were goofing around – most had the day off because of the tasting that Sabjorn was having. He smiled again.

The fool was lucky that he had come on time. Maven had said that he shouldn't have wasted any time but as fate would have it, the plan was going to happen today of all days. He looked down at the paper the paranoid Imperial had given him. "HM – Looking for – skeever exterminator. Will be recompensed," it read.

He entered, smelling the sweet honey from the vats – the place definitely not as unpleasant as Mallus had said it to be. Well… at the very least he didn't see skeever crap everywhere. The owner, Sabjorn, was talking to what appeared to be a messenger from the Cloud District. He shook his head.

"No… I need another hour. Change the time to six," he told him. The messenger frowned.

"My master can't wait much longer. The same goes with the Commander," he argued. He picked up a slip of paper, most likely being his message. "Good day to you milord." He bowed, almost comically, and left without even glancing at Alodie. Sabjorn cursed beneath his breath, crumbling a piece of parchment. That was when he noticed the Imperial standing by the door.

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?" he asked. Alodie walked up to the bar and handed him the poster.

"I was seeking a job and I assumed this was the place to be," he said. Sabjorn sighed in relief.

"Thank the eight. I was already beginning to sign off the place," he said. Alodie smirked slightly at the misplaced joy but quickly fixed his expression back to the look of a hunter. The man Sabjorn put the poster underneath the bar and replaced it with a bottle filled flakes. Alodie assumed that that was the skeever poison.

"Here – I'll show you to the vats," he started. Alodie raised a hand before he could go on.

"First I want some compensation," he said. Sabjorn paused, glaring at the mercenary before him. He was strange looking for sure – he definitely didn't act like a servant. Though, he wasn't really complaining – he just wanted the little buggers out of his meadery. He had to lock up the vats after they suddenly appeared a few weeks ago – he hadn't even been in to see if the mead for the tasting was alright.

Alodie heard the Nord snort. "Yeah – and I want Black-Briar mead to burn in Oblivion. Why should I give you pay for a job you haven't even done yet?" he asked. Alodie grinned darkly, causing Sabjorn to visibly swallow.

"Then maybe I should just leave. After all – how easy is it to take care of a few skeevers?" Sabjorn had to admit – the Imperial had a point. He smirked darkly – maybe this was the Imperial charisma he's heard so often about but didn't believe.

He took one hundred septims from his stash near the bottom shelf and passed it forcibly towards the Imperial. "You better give me results," he muttered.

Sabjorn showed him the second building outside and took out a key, turning the lock but not opening the door. "You have one hour to kill all of them. The poison should do most of the work for you," he said. He handed Alodie the bottle and the key. Before he turned to leave, he issued a warning. "And don't, by the gods, touch my vats or there will be hell to pay."

After he left, Alodie snorted. Not until he gave him hell.

When he went inside, the place was a mess. The gigantic rodents had already chewed several holes into the floorboards and Alodie wondered how the Honningbrew owner was going to hide those. He noticed a few wooden boards off to the side and decided that he might as well attempt to hide them. Off to the south of the building, he heard the many scratches of the skeevers and frowned. In the corner were dozens of foot long rodents chewing on metal and wood. They all scurried when they saw him – their beady red eyes ready to make the kill.

He sighed. Skeevers – or gigantic rats as he normally called them – always hunted in packs. They were the wolves of the barn house – pests in every right. It was no wonder why so many people didn't want to deal with them themselves. Killing them wouldn't be a problem.

He went to work, killing as many of them with his knife as possible and dumping their remains outside. He would have buried the fiends for good measure but he didn't really have the time and the bush would be a good enough substitute. He had cleared most of the rats without the poison fortunately.

The plan Mallus had outlined for him had been simple. He was to dump whatever contagion Sabjorn had provided for him into the vats in order to "poison" his guests during the inspection. Hopefully, it would appear as if Sabjorn had tried to poison his guests – seeing as how he already made enemies with the town guard. And the reason why Mallus wanted to do this? Revenge – pure and simple.

He wiped his hands on his cloak with only about ten minutes until six – or at least to his best guess. He had cleared away the nest quickly with arcane fire – dosing it before it could burn the entire place down. He climbed the ladder up to the top of the vats and uncorked the poison – pouring it all into the first one. He emptied all the others – spilling the good mead onto the wooden floor boards.

The plan went into motion.

He soon saw Mallus beside the door, sighing in relief when he saw the slight mess – knowing that he had trusted the right person.

"You did it then?" he asked. The meadery worker was interrupted by a parade of nobles – their fur cloaks and dyed trousers marking their wealth. Alodie guessed some of them as being Thanes to the Jarl while the bald headed guard was the Commander.

Sabjorn was behind the pack. "I-I'm not sure if we should—" He gaped at the mess that was still in the meadery and went to glare at Alodie who was slightly smirking – whether out nervousness or triumph he wasn't sure.

The nobles weren't happy at all – seeing the mess. A servant held a few empty tankards that they were most likely going to drink from.

The Commander shook his head. "This first impression is definitely not up to par, Sabjorn," he said. Many nobles nodded while Sabjorn tried to quickly gain back their favor.

"W-well all meaderys get at least a little muddled. The mead will definitely be to your liking," he said, glaring at Alodie. Mallus couldn't help but smirk, holding back laughter. All of the important Thanes and guardsmen then took a draft of the mead – pouring the strangely thick substance into their tankards. They made small conversation as they took their seats at the strangely clean table, Sabjorn, Mallus, and Alodie overseeing them.

It was when one of them started to throw up did things turn for the worst. Most hadn't even consumed half of the mead before they all bent over in pain, the entire place only growing more unpleasant. Once, the meadery had smelt of honey and spices, now it stunk of the dead.

Commander Caius glared at Sabjorn. "What is Mara's name did you put in this?" he asked. Sabjorn moved his mouth a few times in protest but nothing came out. Many of the nobles grew pale.

"He tried to poison us!" one yelled out. "The fetcher tried to kill us!"

"N-no… I didn't –"

"He's probably a Stormcloak spy! I mean, no one can get this successful in a year," one Thane said. Sabjorn visibly blanched while Mallus tried to hide a smirk. The meadery owner turned to glare at the worker as if to say "you had something to do with this, didn't you?" Alodie remained silent – completely forgotten amongst the turmoil.

Commander Caius put a hand to his blade, still a bit pale from the mead. "Come with me, Sabjorn, and I won't have to get rough," he threatened. The Nord moved his eyes back and forth between the Commander and Mallus.

"B-but – you – he did it! This was not my –"

"Tell that to the interrogator," Caius said.

Sabjorn was forcibly led away, followed by the many angry nobles. Only Mallus and Alodie remained the former grinning wildly. "Maven will definitely be pleased when she hears from me," he said.

"I need to find the information," he said. Mallus looked over before nodding a few times.

"Oh, yes, yes. Now that Sabjorn is gone, feel free to look around for the little traitor." He turned around, heading towards the open door. He paused. "And here is your pay," he said. He took a rather large sack of gold and threw it to Alodie, adding to the one hundred septims Sabjorn foolishly gave him.

When he left, Alodie sighed. He glanced through the opened door towards the twilight sky. _So much for adventuring on my own terms_, he thought. Maven controlled people who had no spirit left – took advantage of those with no hope.

That was when he promised to fight Maven – no matter what.

* * *

When Mjoll returned to the inn late after doing many insignificant tasks for the Companions, she noticed Alodie sitting silently at the bar, sipping at some mead. She had been offered room and board at Jorrvaskr but she had swiftly declined. At least for now, she still had to break the news to Aerin.

She sat quickly at his side, the Imperial never moved from the drink he now swirled in his tankard. She smiled. "So, how went your dishonest pilfering? Make a few easy septims?" she mocked. Alodie turned to her then, narrowing his eyes.

It was when he explored Sabjorn's office when he found the evidence. The note was going on about how they were going to ship out Honningbrew's mead next week and then it began talking about Aringoth and how they had to pay the fetcher off in order for him to not sell to Maven. The seal was what puzzled him. A name hadn't come with the letter but instead it was stamped with two crossed swords. They weren't crossed downward like Riften's but pointed upward into the sky.

What really got to him though was a bottle of Black-Briar mead underneath his bed as if he was hiding it. When he asked Mallus about it, he laughed.

"Well…you see… Sabjorn used to be an employee to Black-Briar meadery. He hated Maven though – couldn't stand her – and was fired. He took it out on all of us too. He loved the taste of Black-Briar mead. He could never get the same taste as it, though. It's a good thing he's gone, eh?"

After telling Mjoll this, she frowned. Of course Maven's hate was directed at Honningbrew – the only meadery that even had the courage to openly scorn Black-Briar mead. She still couldn't believe that Alodie was doing her dirty work.

"So, you're saying that you willingly put this innocent man into jail after everything you've done for me?" she said. Alodie frowned, sipping from his mead.

"I wouldn't exactly call him innocent," he responded, tilting his head at the taste. Mallus had told him about the master of Honningbrew – how his pay continued to suspiciously lower after every month the shipments went out. The only reason Sabjorn went into the meadery business was because he wanted power.

And right now as he sipped at the Honningbrew mead – the drink tasting a lot like Black-Briar's – he sighed. _Mead is mead,_ Alodie gathered, finishing his drink. He wondered why the people even cared for one drink over the other when they tasted almost exactly same. So he realized that it wouldn't matter if Black-Briar mead took over Honningbrew if both brands were the same. One was simply more influential than the other.

Mjoll frowned, glaring at the ironically honor filled thief. Alodie placed his tankard down, glancing over towards Mjoll. "I'm not looking for your sentiment, Mjoll," he said.

Mjoll sighed. "I know… I've always known," she said, lowering her head. Alodie's eyes stayed on her for longer than he had wanted them to before returning his gaze to the fire. The bard, Mikael, began to strum out a cheesy love song towards a red headed tavern maiden whose blush became as red as her hair. Alodie sighed, turning away from the disgusting sight, glaring at his tankard.

He hated when it got to be awkward between the two of them. He didn't know why he thought this way, it was obvious that Mjoll didn't agree on his way of doing things – it was obvious that the Nords didn't agree on his way of doing things.

He decided to break the ice. "So, what have you been doing?" he asked. Mjoll sighed, not making eye contact with him.

"I've become a shield-sister," she said. Alodie tilted his head at this. She said this as if he would know what she was talking about when he didn't.

When the silence between them grew, Mjoll looked up at the Imperial. "You mean… you don't know anything about the _Companions_?" she said in complete shock. How long has this Imperial been in Skyrim anyway? Had Riften been the only place he'd been to? Did he know nothing about Skyrim? Was he even living?

Seeing his confused face, she sighed. "A shield-sister… is a Companion. The Companions are a warrior group intent on following the ways of the five hundred. It is a great honor… for a Nord," she said. Alodie nodded once though it was obvious that he still didn't know what she was talking about. _Figures_.

"And… you're going to stay here?" he asked. She glanced up then and that's when she noticed how… disappointed he appeared to be. It was probably just her imagination though.

"Yes… if I can do nothing for Riften then maybe I can do something for Skyrim," she said. Alodie found that argument sound and he knew that he couldn't persuade her to do otherwise. After all, he was of the Thieves Guild, the Thieves Guild was in Riften, and she couldn't go into Riften anymore. Not if she wanted to get herself killed.

So, tomorrow he would be on his own again. He didn't know why, but he found the prospect to be quite… lonely. He had quickly grown accustomed to the group's antics. Though…he prayed that Marcurio wanted to stay behind… he definitely wouldn't miss him.

He had to be careful. They knew where he was now. For all he knew, they could have set a trap for him in Riften already. He would have to watch his back – ride by night and day as he returned to Riften. Maybe – just maybe – they would have given up already. There had to be bigger fish to fry. Larger than him at least.

He got up from his seat then and headed towards the door – Mjoll looking back towards him.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Alodie glanced over towards her.

"Just out to get some air," he replied. Mjoll sighed, shaking her head. Even though he had wanted to leave them just a few days ago… something told her that he had at least enjoyed their company. Just a little bit.

Alodie stepped out, breathing in the twilit air. A few customers were beginning to pile into the Mare; some were obviously regulars while others were travel stained strangers. He stepped off to the side and leaned against the wooden walls of the inn, observing the market stalls closing for the day.

That was when he noticed off into the distance an Imperial armored stranger heading towards the inn. He tilted his head as the figure quickly came closer.

That was when he recognized him.

His eyes widened and he quickly lifted his hood as the Nord came closer to the door. The Imperial soldier looked as if he hadn't stopped riding for days – probably came straight from Solitude. Whatever he had must have been urgent – urgent enough to not even stop to camp.

The Nord stopped as he came up to the door, looking to his right to see a cloaked stranger staring directly at him. The stranger's stare sent chills down his spine and he had a bad feeling about the man. He let a couple pass him to go through the door as he stared carefully at him.

Alodie tried to not make eye contact but it was impossible. And now that he got the Nord's attention, there was no going back.

"Do I… know you?" he asked hesitantly. Alodie shifted uncomfortably underneath the Nord's stare – realizing that he could end up in chains yet again. Not if he didn't play this carefully. He looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, playing dumb. The Nord was unconvinced though, getting a closer look at the man's face. He was Imperial by the looks of him; he couldn't exactly see his face because of his cowl. The dusky night wasn't helping him to see anything as well.

"I swear… you look familiar," he said. It was his voice too. He probably heard it once – maybe twice… before Helgen. He narrowed his eyes.

Alodie remained silent, hoping beyond hope that the soldier wouldn't recognize him. He decided to look towards the street in an attempt to brush the Nord off but it was rather obvious that he wouldn't go away until he got his answer. And there, he saw Aerin and Marcurio coming up the road.

He cursed inwardly as they came up to the Mare's steps, Marcurio grinning happily towards him.

"Hey chief!" the wizard remarked.

Beside him, Aerin frowned – looking towards the Imperial soldier. It was rare to see either Imperial or Stormcloak troops in Whiterun simply because of its state of neutrality. And this one was staring directly at Alodie.

"Who's he, Alodie?" he asked.

Hadvar remembered who this stranger was then. It was his name – an Imperial with a Nordic name. How could he forget? The prisoner that wasn't on the list.

Alodie swallowed slowly, seeing as how his cover was blown. He glared at Aerin who didn't react seeing as how he couldn't see his eyes. _You just had to say my name then, didn't you?_ he thought bitterly. He could already imagine this soldier hauling him off in chains again – his entire plan of freedom, ruined.

"You," Hadvar began. _I can't believe this prisoner is still alive_, he thought. Almost everyone at Helgen had been killed by the dragon attack. More the three-quarters of General Tullius's guard hadn't lived to see the next day. And yet here was a prisoner – once fated to the chopping block – alive.

Aerin narrowed his eyes once the Imperial guard took on a more feral demeanor. Marcurio noticed this as well and silently prepared a fire torpedo spell.

Hadvar continued. "You were a prisoner at Helgen," he said. "You were going to die before that dragon showed up."

Alodie remained silent while Aerin's mouth gaped. He knew that the man before him had a dangerous past but… he was actually a fugitive? And from Helgen of all places? Alodie didn't look like a Stormcloak – he certainly didn't act like one. So…how did the man get to be a prisoner with Jarl Ulfric? So many questions flooded his mind that he didn't pay attention to Alodie's answer.

"I won't make excuses to you," he said swiftly, though a bit nervously. Like his life was about to end. "I wasn't supposed to be there." Hadvar sighed softly, realizing that what he said was probably true. He hadn't been on the list, after all – though it was mostly because no one really knew his name. The Thalmor – the ones who told Tullius about Ulfric's stop at Darkwater – had brought him over to the General after the ambush. Said he tried to escape to the border.

General Tullius had doubted that he was a Stormcloak but what could he do? Deny the Thalmor's request? Deny a prisoner the Thalmor obviously wanted dead? No… he could not. They had to keep up appearances after all.

And it had almost cost Alodie's life. Almost. That's what made him suspicious.

_Did the prisoner have anything to do with the dragon's returning?_ he thought. No, of course not. Not one person could bring about the beginning of this mess.

Alodie stared away from Hadvar, stubborn and refused to even look at the Imperial soldier. He didn't care if he judged him. He had committed many unspeakable crimes anyway. It wouldn't have mattered if a Nordic headsmen or a Cyrodiilic ordered his death. He would die anyway.

Hadvar sighed, stepping away from Alodie. What happened, happened. He had no authority to arrest him – not when he didn't even know what he did.

Alodie saw this on his face and chose this time to head towards the door. Both Aerin and Marcurio were still speechless. Hadvar stopped him with his hand.

"Why were you there?" he asked. Alodie stopped, considering his question. "Why did the Thalmor want you dead?" Alodie shifted slightly before roughly shrugging Hadvar's hand off of his shoulder. He would have killed the soldier if there weren't so many people around. He took the handle of the door and turned it promptly, heading inside the warm inn. Hadvar followed, almost instinctually. He had to get answers.

Aerin glanced towards Marcurio who was probably the most confused out of them. Aerin ignored the poor wizard, opening the already closing door.

Mjoll looked up to see Alodie rapidly heading towards his room. She stood quickly. "Alod?" she called out. Hadvar quickly followed the Imperial – almost obstinately – questions still flowing through his mind. Many people of the in ignored the strane dispute, most of them singing drunken songs sung by Mikael. Mjoll saw the soldier and narrowed her eyes. What trouble had Alod gotten himself into this time?

He opened the door to his room forcibly, closing the door and locking it. Alodie quickly shoved a few things into his bag– food long enough to keep him going and a few spare clothes and potions. He eyed the tablet – considering leaving it behind but took it anyway – stuffing the pack full. When he left, he was met with the persistent Nord who narrowed his eyes at him.

"You're hiding something," he said. Alodie narrowed his eyes. How obtrusive was this soldier? Wasn't it obvious that he wanted to be left alone? He tried to push past him but it was as if a brick wall had suddenly formed in front of his door. That was when Mjoll came up, confused as a newly reborn Dremora.

"What are you doing?" she demanded towards Hadvar who glanced towards her. Alodie took this chance distraction to hammer straight into the Nord causing him to fall straight into the opposite wall – probably waking whoever else was in there. Alodie kneed the soldier's gut causing him to reach over in pain. Alodie's cowl fell away in the struggle revealing to Hadvar a very familiar face. The fugitive turned away from him towards Mjoll. The shield-sister's eyes widened, seeing the strange use of violence from him. He went to go past her but Mjoll stood in his path.

"What is going on!" she shouted. Alodie tried to go through the other way but was blocked by the warrior.

He was suddenly off his feet as Hadvar twisted himself, knocking the fugitive to the ground. Mjoll stood there, bewildered as the soldier and Alodie suddenly went into a scuffle. Hadvar grunted as he grabbed the Imperial by the cuff of his cloak. _You had to make it hard on yourself_, he thought sadly. And he had been actually prepared to listen to whatever excuse the fugitive had. Not anymore.

He made to punch the Imperial straight in the jaw and connected. Alodie groaned in pain, but managed to slip out of the soldier's grasp, rolling away. His head reeled when he stood up, feeling dizzy from the blow. Hadvar stood up with him and waited for Alodie to make the first move. After all, he just wanted to talk.

When he didn't make the move and simply stood there, he realized that the man had completely given up. Alodie took a deep breath and then sighed – sitting down slowly. He really had to make a mess of things, didn't he? Now, he had two walls blocking his escape. Maybe running wasn't the answer. Maybe giving up was.

Hadvar actually felt a bit sorry for the guy. He understood that Alodie wouldn't trust him. After all, they were going to kill him. It only made sense.

Either that or he was a rather forgiving person.

Before he could say anything, either to the war maiden beside him or the surrendered fugitive below him, the people of the inn suddenly rustled with many voices exclaiming in panic. Alodie looked up.

"A dragon!" the person who ran in exclaimed. The face of the man was both terrified and wind blown, probably from running. "A dragon has attacked the tower!" Hadvar's eyes widened along with Alodie's. The disheartened Imperial stood up quickly and easily passed Mjoll who was still standing there speechless, shaking her head giving Alodie an eye.

Both Aerin and Marcurio stood by the guard and looked at each other, one frowning in fear and one smirking with bloodlust. The inn suddenly went into turmoil – many people left through the door either to go home or to go and see the action. Hadvar, however, wanted to go see the Jarl immediately and turned towards Alodie who stood behind him. The Imperial looked ready for action, almost as if he wanted to see this dragon himself. Curiosity always killed the Khajiit, Hadvar remembered fondly, and wondered if most of the people going to see the dragon out of pure curiosity would be killed.

Mjoll glanced towards Alodie. "We have to go see the Jarl about this," she said. Alodie narrowed his eyes.

"He probably knows about it already," he said. Hadvar narrowed his eyes at the fugitive.

"If you want to stay out of the way, go ahead. You still have to answer me," he muttered. At this Alodie lowered his eyes into a glare. The Nord soldier was obviously taunting him into following him but he would have none of it. Though... since Mjoll wanted to go up the palace, he didn't see why not. It wasn't as if the dragon was going anywhere.

* * *

Jarl Balgruuf narrowed his eyes when three guards made their way towards him, all of them scorched in several places. Irileth was talking to Farengar at the moment about the dragon's weakness along with some mysterious stranger. This stranger wore a cowl so he couldn't discern her features when she walked in. He was, however, very suspicious of the woman.

After hearing the guards tell him about the dragon, he nodded once – glancing towards the court wizard's study. _Hurry up_, he thought, tapping a foot. The guards grew nervous as they saw their Jarl grow impatient. They knew that they had failed Whiterun. They were ashamed that they had even run in the first place. The Jarl saw their fear and sighed, sitting forward.

"We will send another detachment at once," he said. "But for now, go and rest. You've earned it."

Many of the Nords put their hands to their hearts in salute. "Yes my Jarl," one of them said. That was when the strangers burst in.

He recognized one of them being Hadvar, the Imperial solder from a few weeks ago. He wondered what he was doing here. The other four he didn't recognize though. He sat up in surprise, Hadvar coming close towards him. The steward Avenicci narrowed his eyes at the intrusion, remembering the arrogant soldier from before.

Jarl Balgruuf nodded towards him. "Hadvar. What a surprise," he said.

"I'm sorry my Jarl but there isn't much time. A dragon has attacked the western keep," he said. Alodie looked the Jarl over. He was a simple looking man – hardly intimidating. Jarl Balgruuf dressed himself finely enough for people to recognize his position as Jarl yet his eyes were drooping from lost sleep and concentration. The war had already done him in.

The Jarl nodded his head grimly. "Yes, I know."

"We have to do something!" Hadvar insisted. Although he wasn't ordered to defend the town from a dragon, he wouldn't stand idly by and just let the town collapse into ruin. Balgruuf knew this and he smiled softly. Maybe the Imperials were not as bad as he first believed. Maybe they actually did have honor left in them.

But now was not the time.

Irileth walked in then, a deep scowl covering her face. "The information is allusive, Jarl Balgruuf," she said. The Dunmer glanced over seeing the familiar face of Hadvar yet the unfamiliar faces of four others.

Aerin was still trailing behind, amazed at the Nord's architecture. Marcurio was serious for once, sitting on top of the empty table – a clear sign of disrespect that no one really noticed at the moment. Mjoll stood between Hadvar and Alodie, still afraid that the two would spill out into another fight.

The Jarl sighed. "You didn't find anything?" he asked.

The Dunmer straightened at the question. "Well… Farengar did say something about an ancient stone tablet that's found in Bleak Falls Barrow. He said that it might shed some light on the matter…" She paused. "But we don't have time."

The strangers suddenly smirked with the exception of one – Alodie. He looked into his bag and pulled it off his shoulder, taking the stone out of it quickly. Hadvar looked at the man curiously then snorted quickly in laughter. They really couldn't have been that lucky. Could they?

The Jarl smiled slightly, seeing the stone. He pointed at Alodie.

"I guess the stone tablet isn't _in_ the Barrow anymore," he said, smirking. Irileth's mouth gawked. All that worrying for nothing? She sighed, stepping towards the Imperial. He glared at her as she made to grab it, pulling it away.

Her lips puckered in anger. "I would give that to me if I were you," she threatened. Alodie was suspicious. This strange map probably was of some importance and he didn't want to give it up for nothing. But for now, he supposed he had very little choice. He glanced over towards the room he came from, seeing an uptight wizard – _just lovely_ – and a cloaked stranger. The stranger had her hand on the hilt of her sword and he could feel the daggers of her eyes piercing him.

He relinquished the stone, Irileth catching it quickly. She headed towards the wizard who snatched it from her hands. The stranger bent over it in curiosity. Farengar twisted the tablet over to reveal the dragon writing.

He sighed. "This could take ages to decipher," he said. Irileth threw her hands into the air.

"You are pointless. Just. _Pointless_," she said. The Jarl held his chin, thinking over what he should do. He sighed.

"We have no choice. We must face the beast with ignorance," he said. He turned to Hadvar. "You were at Helgen. You might be able to help us with this." Hadvar along with Aerin turned to glare at Alodie who had also been at Helgen. No one made any moves to tell the Jarl this however.

Hadvar bowed his head. "Of course my Jarl," he said. Jarl Balgruuf then took the time to consider the strangers, narrowing his eyes.

"And you," he started, addressing the strangers, "don't need to risk your lives." Mjoll frowned at this while Aerin looked eager to take up the proposition. Alodie, although curious, didn't really want to get himself killed.

"It would be an honor for us to go, Jarl Balgruuf," Mjoll said, elbowing Alodie. The Imperial turned to glare at her.

"What was that for?" he whispered to her.

"Don't disrespect the Jarl," she said through her teeth. Alodie didn't know what she was talking about but nodded anyway. Whatever strange traditional thing the Jarl had suggested, he had no right to deny it.

The Jarl sighed, sitting back in his throne. He was not going to rest easily tonight. Not until this dragon problem was over. He glanced over towards Irileth. "I want you to send another detachment at once, Iritleth," he said. "I only hope that we can at least drive it back." He glanced towards the five before him. "Good luck."

Hadvar bowed once in respect followed by Mjoll. The three Imperials simply stared on as Irileth glared at Alodie. He didn't take the time to glare back.

Mjoll looked over towards Aerin. "You might want to stay behind for this Aerin. You might get –"

"Oh, no. Not this time, Mjoll," he said. He smiled nervously at the Nord. "You know that I always have to be by your side, no matter what." Mjoll looked on worriedly until she slowly smiled. Aerin truly did have a heart of gold.

Marcurio stood, flexing his fingers letting out a bit of fire. "Finally, I can _do_ something," he muttered.

Hadvar glanced at Alodie, still wanting to ask him questions but knew that they had to wait. At least until this dragon was killed. If dragons could even _be_ killed. He was still suspicious – and he still had to make that delivery to the Jarl – but all of that had to wait. The dragon was the main priority.

Irileth sighed as she suddenly became the leader of a troop of four irregular citizens plus one soldier. She smirked. This would definitely be a day to put into the history books. She led the five down the hill, passing many worried guards and townsfolk. Off into the distance, they could see the fire and smoke from the western tower. The dragon – fortunately enough – had retreated for now. She was sure that it would be back though.

When they got to the Plains District – all was in chaos. People crowded the gates that were being blocked off by the guards – ordered by Irileth of course. She saw twenty men ready to move out – most were new recruits who barely even got a chance to have a first posting. She frowned deeply at this. They had no chance.

Alodie stepped quietly behind the Housecarl, glancing warily upon the troops. He wouldn't have considered this being the detachment – after all, they were going to try and kill a dragon. Irileth waved her hand as many of the guards saluted – many citizens running up towards the walls – probably so that they could get a better look. She coughed once.

"I see that you are all ready to move out," she said. Alodie glanced towards Mjoll who stared back at him. It was obvious that she was nervous. If there was one thing Alodie hadn't expected – it was Mjoll being afraid.

Irileth continued. "What we are about to face will be far more unconventional then what you were trained for. And I don't blame you," she said. "Just fight for Whiterun, fight for Skyrim, and drive the beast back!"

She drew her blade and raised it high into the air. The guards all yelled out in triumph – lifting their axes, their blades, their pikes. Mjoll followed their example, raising her battle axe high. Aerin smiled nervously though was still unprepared to face a dragon of all things. Marcurio – a bit overly ecstatic – raised his fist into the air like he was still drunk. Only Hadvar and Alodie remained silent – serious for what was about to take place.

"For Whiterun!" they shouted. "For Skyrim!"

Then, they left.

* * *

**Cliffhanger! And thanks for the reviews guys, keep them coming! They really do help when I can't exactly think of what to write next. I always welcome encouragement! **

**You can only guess what happens next chapter :)**

_Hinode~Dawn_**  
**


	16. Dragonborn Rising

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart,_

_I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes,_

_With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art,_

_Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes._

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Dragonborn Rising**

The western tower was like a candle, the fire lighting up the night sky like another moon. Alodie studied the fire seriously as their troop edged forward – prepared for the worst. He glanced towards Mjoll whose face was as solid as iced water. She was not ready for this. None of them were.

They all walked among the flames – the fires licking at his boots. He shuddered slightly – still irrationally afraid of the fires. Still afraid of the past. Hadvar trailed behind him uncomfortably close, close enough that he could hear him whisper nervously underneath his breath a prayer to Talos. He found it odd seeing as he was an Imperial soldier who banned the right to worship the god but he didn't think much else of it.

As they walked among the fires, Alodie noticed burnt corpses of the Whiterun guards – still screaming as they were plunged into flames. He realized that he was sweating out of fear and shook slightly after seeing the dead guard, looking quickly away, up into the southern mountains.

He heard a familiar ringing noise and closed his eyes tightly. _You can kill me now_, he taunted. _Go on, finish what you started_. They edged closer to the tower like corpses rising from the dead and were met with the unpleasant sight inside.

The place was in chaos– dying soldiers whimpered in pain while the unharmed cared for them. And there weren't too many of them. He could feel Mjoll shudder beside him as he looked up into her already ash blown face. Aerin had completely blanched at the sight, most likely disgusted. Marcurio had remained outside – looking out into the dark cold night.

A guard sat up slightly, his eyes widening when he saw Irileth. "H-housecarl—"

"Report soldier. We don't have much time," she said. The guard nodded slowly, the burns on his neck paining him greatly. He shook.

"It came out of nowhere. No one was as prepared for it. Grabbed Tor. It's just— we… we can't kill it!" he shouted. Alodie frowned at this while the new guards surrounding Irileth began to panic. The Dunmer did not stir however.

"What do you mean we can't kill it?" she said in astonishment. "It's alive isn't it?" The guard shook his head, still afraid.

"Y-you don't understand. It… it just got right back up like nothing even happened!"

"So, it's injured then?" the Dunmer asked. The guard coughed, blood spurting from his mouth.

"I-I'm sorry Housecarl…I can't—"

Hadvar stood beside the soldier, bending down beside him. He took a flask from his side pocket and handed it to him. The guard nodded once in gratitude, downing the water slowly. Alodie glanced up into the tower, smoke rising from it like chimney. He felt the vibration again though he didn't know if anyone else did. They probably would have glanced up or… _something_.

Mjoll took Alodie's shoulder, noticing his discomfort. "You alright?" she asked. Alodie looked up at Mjoll, frowning.

"Of course not," he said bluntly. Who would be "alright?" Here they were in a burning tower while a dragon was still out there – probably circling them like a hawk. He heard Irileth sigh.

"You three set up watch near the top. I want to be the first one to know if the dragon comes back," she said. Irileth was sure that it would come back once the sun broke the horizon. She glanced towards the strangers. "For now, we wait."

Marcurio came in then, noticing the state of most of the people in the room he sighed. "I guess I have my work cut out for me, huh?" he remarked. Aerin only rolled his eyes.

They spent the next few hours sitting inside the tower, the night growing even colder as the moons rose. Marcurio worked diligently on the soldiers with the help of Hadvar who had made it his mission to help the people in any way he could. Irileth stared out the window of the tower, prepared to move when necessary.

Mjoll, Aerin, and Alodie all sat against the wall of the tower – Alodie messing with the knife he held in his hands. Aerin took this time to ask the Imperial many unanswered questions.

"So, why were you going to be killed at Helgen?" he asked. Mjoll's eyebrows shot up, turning to glare in bewilderment at the Imperial.

"Wha—?" she stuttered. "What do you mean _killed_?"

Alodie didn't look at either of them as he twirled his knife, glancing towards Hadvar. The Nord was now wrapping a tourniquet around a poor guard's mangled arm. He sighed, planting the knife down between two stone bricks. He could feel the two pairs of accusing eyes on him already and didn't feel like turning to meet them.

"I…I don't know why I was there. I don't even… _remember,_" he said through his teeth. Aerin huffed, completely skeptical of his words. If he didn't know why he was supposed to be there, then why was he looking so guiltily at them now?

"I don't believe you," he said. "You have the look of a guilty man." Alodie turned around to glare at him.

"_Guilty_…" He glared at his dagger – the very same one he took from the debris of Helgen. He observed its razor sharp edges. "I guess that's all I could ever be," he whispered, almost inaudible by Mjoll. He groaned loudly causing most of the people surrounding them to glance towards the Imperial. He suddenly felt a calming hand on his shoulder and turned to face Mjoll. She was smiling sadly at him, as if she could understand what he was going through. Aerin grew silent.

"It's okay," she said.

All at once, Alodie's angered eyes softened as he leaned against the stone wall, brushing Mjoll's hand off. He was probably silent for an hour… maybe two? They weren't sure for the sky was ever obscure.

He sighed quietly. "I was there because of one man," he started. Mjoll perked up, glancing towards Alodie. He gazed outside, towards the fires. "_Motierre_." He said the name with such hatred that it caused Mjoll to shudder.

"And… why? Why did he do this to you?" she asked. He smiled sadly, his eyes reflecting the fires from outside.

"Because…" he muttered. "I lost his game." He looked up into the tower. "And I betrayed him."

_Traitor_, she remembered the Khajiit calling him. She looked down onto the ground, noticing a crack in the stone where the dagger laid. Aerin looked towards the Imperial with a small bit of remorse. Alodie sighed, closing his eyes. He really didn't want to have to explain himself. Not now, at least.

He suddenly heard something from far away. He stood up. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

Mjoll's face contorted into confusion, standing with him. "No… what do you –?"

"The dragon! It's he—"

The guard was interrupted by an explosion of fire lighting up the night sky. Irileth jumped, unaware that the dragon had been circling high above them quietly, and pulled out her sword. Alodie and Mjoll both unsheathed their weapons while Aerin remained, glaring at the sky. Alodie grabbed his knife, twirling it around once before putting it in its place. Hadvar glanced through the window while Marcurio stopped his powerful healing spell, switching to a hot burst of electricity.

Everyone who was not injured hurried outside the tower with their weapons drawn. The guards were already going on the attack, pointlessly shooting arrows at the dragon into the early morning. The few guards on the top had been knocked off by the monster and were falling to their deaths, screaming as they fell into the licking flames.

The dragon was soaring over the scrambling guards who had no formation to combat the beast – why should they when it could just fly over them? The dragon laughed as it snapped at one guard, throwing the chewed up body at his friends.

"**Zu'u Mirmulnir! Faas zu wo los nu staadnau!" **it cried. Alodie's face showed of great confusion as he heard familiar words from a dream he had long forgotten_. Why would I leave when I am __**staadnau**__ … free to do what I want? Do you not see your own freedom as well? What is stopping you?_

This dragon was certainly free. Free to wreak havoc.

It shot up into the air again, this time followed by bursts of electricity. Marcurio grunted as he was able to place a hit onto the dragon and smirked when the beast faltered.

"Yeah, down you go you bastard!" he yelled. His electricity caused the air to become humid. If there was anything he could do it would be conjuring up ginormous spurts of power without even trying. He clearly had a hard time controlling his power though. The dragon tried to ignore the pain from the lightning, its maw leaking with flames as he tried to escape the magicka. It was obviously already injured a great deal and Alodie hoped that it would be to their advantage.

Marcurio, his magicka drained from healing the injured, stopped, breathing heavily – the dragon still circling in the sky. It laughed. "**You are sahlo, **_**weak**_**, joor!"**

Marcurio narrowed his eyes. "This dragon really likes to piss me off, doesn't he?" he said.

Alodie ignored him and decided to run out into the flames and down the steps. Mjoll glanced quickly towards him.

"Alod, where are you going?" she called out. The dragon attacked the many guards who used an old wall as cover, yelling in terror as the fire consumed it. The dragon still laughed. "**Hio nis krii ahrk dov, meyes joore!"** Alodie climbed the wall deftly, holding his sparked sword beside him. He didn't know why, but it was as if something was pulling him towards the dragon – to face it. Then kill it. The dragon hovered beside him as he finally got to the top, glaring at the monster. The beast reared its head back in surprise. Alodie narrowed his eyes and taunted the dragon throwing his dagger at it. The dagger pierced the beast's neck but didn't seem to be effected by it. It appeared to be smirking but he couldn't tell.

"**Hiomey," **it muttered.

Irileth ran up the wall beside the many guards. "What is that idiot doing?" she yelled. Never has she seen someone offer themselves so foolishly. Mjoll tried to climb after him but slipped, realizing that her armor was weighing her down. She had to stop that idiot. What did he think he was doing? He was up there committing suicide! What type of _moron_…

The monster landed on the wall causing it to shudder. Alodie braced himself as the beast landed beside him, an obvious show of power. It looked over towards him letting out a sharp roar followed by a column of fire that hit Alodie directly. Mjoll's eyes widened in fear. "Alodie!" she yelled.

Inside the fire, Alodie could feel the pain – feel the scorching heat – yet none of it burned him. He cried out in immense pain but it was as if a barrier had encased his body allowing only the lick of the flames to harm him. It was the voice though. The voice…

"_**Yoltoorshul!"**_

It was speaking. The fires were words. And he could combat the words. He knew it.

Although the fire blinded him along with the pain, he could still make out the maw of the creature and slowly stabbed towards it. He hit the side of the dragon cleanly, his sword stuck between the dragon's bones. Merely a flesh wound, however.

The dragon drew back in surprise. "**Wo—"**Before the dragon could return to the sky, Alodie growled in both pain and frustration, patting down the flames on his cloak. It flapped its stringy wings so that it could get above the mortal but he wasn't able to escape, Alodie jumping clumsily onto the beast, grabbing a sharp scale resembling a horn with his left hand to support himself.

Mjoll's eyes widened as she saw Alodie dangling like a rope on the side of the ascending dragon – the monster yelling out in a rage trying to disentangle itself from the mortal. Irileth stood their gaping, completely awed by the Imperial's audacity. She ordered the men to stop shooting in fear that they would hit the foolish Imperial.

Alodie clung on for dear life suddenly finding himself hundreds of feet above the ground. He twisted and turned as the dragon shook his neck trying to rid itself of him. He laughed softly as his hand started to bleed from holding onto the dragon's spikes, his hold becoming slippery. _I am _so_ stupid! _He berated himself, holding onto the sword that was still pierced inside the dragon. Why did he have to follow the dragon up? Because he didn't want to lose his sword?

The dragon shook himself again. "**Vomeyz!" **it yelled. It swished its tail and shouted in the voice – blasting fire. Alodie yelled out knowing that if he let go he would fall to his death. And maybe he should. Let the dragon finish what he started. He wasn't even sure why he even did that – was he stupid? What had even gotten into his head to grab the dragon's attention like that?

There was no time to regret his actions though. The dragon was now flying over the top of the tower, spewing fire. Alodie would not let go however. His left hand slippery from his own blood, he released the spike and was soon dangling from his sword caught by the dragon's scales and bones. The dragon was angry and tried to snap at him like a flea. The hanging Imperial then grasped at another spike with, pushing his sword deeper into the dragon's neck as he tried to hold on.

It roared in pain and Alodie could see its yellow eyes roll back in its head. The dragon then began crashing down towards the ground, taking Alodie with it. His eyes widened as he held onto the hilt of his sword. The dragon crashed its right side onto the tower as it fell, yelling out curses in its language. Alodie was flung off by the impact and was falling from three stories above the ground. The people below held their breath as Alodie crashed, skidding near an ash pit, feeling his left arm and a few ribs break with the impact. He ground his teeth, feeling the seething pain in his body.

The dragon crashed into the plains to the south and remained still, its breath labored and slow. Mjoll ran quickly up to Alodie while Marcurio and the rest of the guards remained still at the dragons fall. Alodie sat up slowly – daring not to move his left arm or torso too much.

The sun broke the horizon.

"Alodie, are you alright?" Mjoll asked. The dragon was heaving its last breath, muttering a final inaudible word.

"…_**ahkiin."**_

Then, it burned. Everyone's eyes widened as the dragon suddenly went up into flames like a spark upon a camp fire. The guards surrounding it drew themselves back, raising their swords as if the fiery dragon would spring up again. Alodie swallowed slowly before closing his eyes, feeling at…peace – even though he should be feeling tremendous pain. The dragon's fire then swirled about him like a fierce storm, his eyes opening – widening in fear. Mjoll stepped back as the fire suddenly headed towards Alodie – in complete shock.

He grasped his arm tightly as he tried to fight the fire but it still came. Some guards behind him gasped out loud – most went to their knees as if in prayer. What remained of the dragon were bones, Alodie's sword, and a few Whiterun guard outfits.

Mirmulnir had been defeated – dispersed once again into the fires of Oblivion. Or so Alodie had first believed. The fire still encircled him like a tornado and shook his very core. Mjoll noticed that his eyes glowed like torchlight – his face still very afraid of what had just happened to him.

He looked up at Mjoll frowning. "What in _Oblivion_ was that?" he asked her.

She remained silent, her mouth agape– too shocked for words. Irileth's guards stood behind him just as shocked. Alodie glanced over towards them, confused. He had killed the dragon… but they were acting like he was the damn Emperor or something. One guard took off his helmet, his ash covered homely face a beacon among the fires.

"I can't believe it. You're… Dragonborn…" he muttered.

And that was the only thing that anyone said – the silence growing between them. Mjoll sat slowly beside Alodie, looking deeply into his eyes that were still glowing unnaturally from the fires of the dragon. He blinked once, his eyes returning to their normal dark brown – confused. He winced as he felt his broken arm – the pain intensified after the battle.

Irileth walked over towards the dragon, smiling. She touched the bones of the dragon gently. They could kill them. It could be done.

The guards slowly came closer to Alodie – completely ignoring the dragon's corpse.

"Dragonborn…" another guard muttered.

"Dragonborn?" he asked incredulously. Mjoll slowly placed her hand on his shoulder, lowering her head. She couldn't believe it – the coldhearted bastard was actually _Dragonborn_? Out of all the honorably people out there it was _him_?

"Out of the legends and stories – the Dragonborn…" muttered the first guard. "They say that the Dragonborn can slay dragons and steal their power. Which was exactly what you just did."

Many of the guards muttered amongst themselves, Alodie still puzzled over the matter. He was so confused that he didn't notice Mjoll's hand on his shoulder.

One guard was unconvinced though. "But Tiber Septim was Dragonborn and he didn't absorb dragons like that," he said. A guard beside him hit him over the head causing him to jolt.

"Of course not you idiot! There weren't any dragons in the 2nd era," he said.

"What say you Irileth? You've been awfully quiet…"

The Housecarl sighed before turning away from the corpse. Alodie only stared off towards the sunrise.

"I don't care about petty myths or legends or this _Dragonborn_," she started. She waved her hand. "Here is a dead dragon – that at least has some truth in it."

Some of the Nords scoffed. "Well of course you don't. After all, you're not a Nord."

And yet… he wasn't a Nord either… Alodie didn't rise to argue that though – still confused over what even being a Dragonborn meant.

Irileth laughed. "I've run across all of Tamriel and – believe me – I've seen even stranger things than this. All that matters is that we're able to kill these monsters. Anyone who can slay a dragon is more than enough for me." Alodie stood up then, his legs shaking. Marcurio only watched on while Aerin glanced out the window of the tower – dazed.

Mjoll got up with Alodie, catching him as he tumbled slightly, though he raised his hand signaling that he was alright. He definitely didn't _feel_ different – in this he had to agree with Irileth. They had killed a dragon – that was more than enough for him.

One Nord smiled, taking off his own helmet. "But… you should be able to shout right? Like the Nords of old in the stories. "

A few guards laughed. "Of course not – I mean does it come that easily?" one said.

"Show us!" one cried out. Alodie was amused but he really didn't want to humor them with their strange myths. He did know that something strange did happen to him but… He didn't really know why. Why would he shout? What good would it do? He sighed as the guards chanted at him. "Shout! Shout! Shout!"

Mjoll narrowed her eyes. This would prove to her what was true and what was false. Was her newly found friend really the Dragonborn of legend?

Marcurio leant back on the tower, smirking. His theory had been true. He always loved it when he was right. As they continued to chant at him, Alodie glanced down. He didn't know what he would shout, could shout. In his heart though – a place that he rarely followed – he could hear a word. Remember a word.

"Force…" he muttered to himself. Mjoll tilted her head. "_Force_!" he shouted. Nothing. Why did these people want him to shout anyway? What was so special about shouting? Was it a Dragonborn sort of thing? He cursed himself for not knowing much about Nordic culture. Maybe if he did he would know what to do…

The people stopped cheering as they waited for something to happen. One Nord smirked – the one who had called him Dragonborn. "We meant… use _the Voice_. Not just …_'shout'_ shout…" he said, laughing to himself. A few others joined him. Alodie blushed before he began to walk away towards the tower, pushing past the guards, wincing. Many of the Nords sighed. "Oh, come on! Please?"

Alodie looked over his shoulder. He didn't want to be ridiculed like this when he didn't even know what he was doing. Irileth rolled her eyes as she headed towards the tower again.

"Just leave the poor boy alone," she said – as an order. Many of the guards looked disappointed.

It was then that Alodie remembered. Remembered the wall…the voices… He suddenly felt lightheaded as the word came back to him. "_Fus_…" he whispered. He turned around to look at the guards who were all looking curiously at him as he said a foreign word. "Fus," he said louder. He repeated the word many times, gaining a few confused stares. "Fus!" he shouted. "_Fus_!"

Mjoll looked at the poor Imperial sadly. "Um… Alodi—"

"**Fus!"**

Many of the guards staggered back as an invisible ripple flew towards them – originating from Alodie's mouth. Many laughed as they were sent sprawling while some frowned out of brief terror – unprepared for that to happen.

Alodie felt breathless for once – a feeling of ecstasy flowing through him. He smiled brightly – probably the first time in a long time. It was as if he was alive again. It was as if he had found his soul – realized who he was.

Mjoll stared back at him in astonishment. Hadvar, who had been observing all of this with slight fascination, shook his head getting out of his stupor. He narrowed his eyes. The mysterious prisoner was Dragonborn…

The Thalmor knew something.

"**Fus!" **he shouted again, this time into the sky.

Many of the guards cheered –their hope restored, "Dragonborn!"

He couldn't help but smile. He could fight back! Just the thought of having this… this _power_ filled him with joy. He wasn't sure about the whole Dragonborn thing but shouting… was exhilarating. Like he was a different person.

He shouted again, smiling towards Mjoll. She paused as she saw the rare expression on his face. She couldn't help but observe how fascinating his smile was… how unexplainably attractive he was when…. She shook her head – clearing her faint blush. And she couldn't help but smile along with him.

"Dragonborn!" many yelled. But he didn't notice them. He only shouted… shouted until he was tired to even do so anymore. Shouted until the morning sun was completely in the sky. Then, his broken arm reminded him of his mortality and his smile turned into a pained smirk. Mjoll came to his side.

"Alodie... are you—?" He began to laugh softly and Mjoll edged away. He was starting to get a bit crazy… like he was drunk. She didn't know that shouting affected a person like this – like they were on skooma or something. Or maybe Alodie was just confused – she would be if she was in his place.

"I feel a bit… hoarse…" he croaked.

Mjoll smirked. "Well of course you do – shouting like that," she said. He wanted to do it one more time though. One more time before he returned to the inn. To rest…

"**F—"**

Before he could finish, he heard off towards the mountains a breathy shout.

"**DOV-AH-KIIN!" **

And the rumble was felt by many…

* * *

Ulfric Stormcloak awoke as he heard the voice. Heard the call. He immediately sat up and started to get himself dressed – hurrying towards the throne room. The Dragonborn has come. And now, he had more work to do in order to find him. To get him on his side.

He was met by Galmar as he rushed down to hall – his friend's eyes still dark from sleep. "You heard that, didn't you Ulfric?" he said. The Jarl laughed nervously, shaking his head.

"Of course I did. I would have to be deaf and blind not to feel and see all of the books on my shelf fall onto the floor," he said. Galmar laughed as they climbed down the stairs down towards the throne room. Jorleif stood there holding many scrolls and parchments – most likely the many reports from the guards. How anyone was able to file that much paperwork so quickly, he wasn't sure. Ulfric helped the steward with the papers, placing them messily onto the dining table.

"The Greybeards… they called from their mountain… it's probably been eras since –"

"Not right now, Jorleif. We need to gather reports from around Skyrim, now. We need to find out who he is," he said. Galmar raised his thick eyebrows.

"And why would we need the support of the Dragonborn?" he asked. Ulfric smirked.

"You really don't know why, Galmar?" he said implausibly. He edged closer to the General. "With the Dragonborn on our side, the people from the other holds would fall to us like sheep in a herd." He crossed his arms, frowning. "It would probably be even better than the Jagged Crown – a symbol of power and a sign that our way is the right way."

Galmar nodded many times, realizing Ulfric's point. "But… what if the Dragonborn is an Imperial lover?" he asked. "What then?" Ulfric lowered his eyes, sighing. He had a dream before being awoken by the Greybeards – of a thunder clap absent of lightning and then the fires. Then dawn.

He looked through one of the reports, sighing as they only gave him the information that he already knew. That the Dovahkiin was coming. He glanced towards Galmar.

"Then… we would have to pray that all hope is not lost."

* * *

Ralof had been walking down the streets of Windhelm when the call came. He noticed the many people on the streets laughing, crying, and shouting.

He had been going about his rounds, trying to find evidence of the Butcher. He had been close as well; the house in the richer district had some hard evidence of the court wizard's guilt. He knew that they could never trust the mage – magic was for the weak and necromancy was for the daedra. He was on his way to report the disaster when the Greybeards shouted.

People from inside clambered out into the streets, looking up. A priest to Talos was shouting out prayers to the sky – and for a long time, Windhelm had never been happier. Even their own Jarl hadn't gotten this much attention.

He remembered the Throat of the World and those lazy old men. He hadn't believed them when they said the Dragonborn would be coming soon but… this soon? It was hard to believe. And he knew that Ulfric wanted to contact the Dovahkiin as quickly as possible, so he ignored the awe of the citizens, shoving past some and began to head towards the Palace of Kings.

He had never seen the Palace this busy. Soldiers were running everywhere as if the Imperials themselves were on their front doorstep. The steward, Jorleif, was going through many scrolls while Ulfric Stormcloak sat upon his throne going through another.

"Are you sure?" the Jarl asked his steward. The man shook his head.

"It's hard to tell my Jarl. Dragon attacks are happening everyday now," he said. The Jarl's eyes grew angered, shutting the scroll fiercely.

"Don't you find it to be a coincidence that the Dragonborn is called right when Whiterun sends out a distress to the other holds about a dragon attack upon their roads and to not travel upon them?" he questioned. The Jarl smirked. "He can't be here – the Dovahkiin would know nothing about the Dragon's language and yet he shouted. He must have killed a dragon." He sat back in his throne. "And if he shouted, I would have been able to sense him here."

"And you didn't, Jarl Ulfric?" Jorleif asked. The Jarl paused then shook his head, slowly.

"I… don't know," he said. But he did know. He had only heard the Greybeards – not the Dragonborn. He was already growing suspicious over this – were the Greybeards playing a game with him? They told him that his shout would be able to be heard and yet he felt nothing.

They were mocking his power.

Jorleif jumped when his Jarl slammed his throne with his fist, his eyes drawing upon a blond haired Nord. Ralof had waited until the Jarl noticed him before bowing politely, not looking directly into the Jarl of Windhelm's eyes.

"Why have you come?" he asked Ralof. The Stormcloak soldier frowned.

"I… I want to help you in any way I can Jarl Ulfric," he said. "It would be by my honor to help you find the Dragonborn." Ulfric recognized the soldier then – the same one that followed him up the mountain and the only one who knew his shame. If the soldier had been silent about his journey up until now, maybe he could be trusted…

He looked towards his steward who didn't seem to argue about Ralof's presence. He glanced towards a few messangers and waved towards one, the thin man bowed before the Stormcloak High King.

"Write up a message then give it to this soldier here," he said. The messenger glanced up.

"And what shall I write my lord?" he asked.

The Jarl smiled, removing his fist from his throne. He looked towards Ralof. "Once you find the Dragonborn, I want you to give him my… invitation." He glanced towards the messenger. "I want you to ask the Dragonborn to join the Stormcloaks."

* * *

Delphine was riding back towards Riverwood when she heard the shout. Her eyes widened – realizing that the dragon at Whiterun had spurred more than simply chaos in the hold. The Dragonborn has come.

She urged her horse into a gallop and soon found herself in front of Riverwood near midday. She didn't even bother tying up her horse as she ran into the inn. The place was in chaos. People were asking each other if they had heard the voice from above in the mountains. Many, of course, agreed with each other. The voice of the Greybeards had ripped the sky apart.

She was going to leave.

Orgnar saw her and smiled weakly – nervous for what was going to come. "Delphine your bac—"

"No time Orgnar," she shouted over the many voices. She was pretty sure that half of the town was at their inn right now. Orgnar frowned.

"What is going on Delphine?" he asked. The ex-Blade sighed as she began heading into her room, opening the cabinet. Orgnar sighed as she waited for her to return – watching the floor of the inn. When the inn keeper did return – he noticed the overstuffed bag of foodstuffs and potions. He frowned. "You're leaving? _Again_?"

Delphine glanced at him pathetically. "If what the old man said was true then we need to find him," she said. She handed him a few keys to the inn causing Orgnar to look up. "I want you to look after the Giant while I'm gone."

The barkeep stiffened. "And where are you going?" he asked.

Delphine, a first time in a long time, smiled. "I'm going two steps ahead of them."

* * *

A dark dragon looked up and smirked. He flew above the clouds, watching Skyrim from below like a god – when in fact he was.

"**Dovahkiin…" **he muttered to himself. He then remembered the dreams – remembered the mysterious mortal's grief stricken face. He laughed. "**Hio kos ni aan Dovah. Vanmindoraan…" **

He was in fact glad that he would be opposed by the old ones for once – he didn't want the hunt to bore him, surely. When he found the "_Dovah_" however – he would not go easy on him. He was going to eat the world – he wanted to finish what he had already started. And not let some anointed mortal to ruin everything.

Mortals disgusted him. They were selfish – insufficient. They fought amongst themselves, killed their own brothers – their own kin. Mortals were rash – lying, conniving bastards. They betrayed him – betrayed his leadership. Betrayed the _Dov_!

And he would kill them all because of it.

"**Faal Lein-Naak alokos, ahrk dez gronos faal laat Dovahkiin…"**

And he would make sure that he _was_ the last.

* * *

Everyone at the tower was awe struck by the powerful voices from the Throat of the World. Alodie's ecstatic face was suddenly replaced with a serious one – realizing that he was going to have a whole new load of mess now.

He was sitting inside the tower-makeshift-medical camp getting his arm set by Mjoll. The Nord smiled at him – strange when she rarely smiled at him before – and breathed in deeply.

"Well… Marcurio could probably still heal you if—"

"Pull it," he muttered. Mjoll frowned, holding the device's lever softly. She knew how painful a dislocated shoulder was… and denying healing treatment was being full blown stubborn. She knew he had something against Marcurio… but she didn't know that it had gone this far.

So, she pulled the device causing Alodie to grunt softly in pain. Once his shoulder cap was back in place though, a calm wave of relief flowed through him. He flexed his arm, taking it out of the device slowly. It was still a bit numb but it would have to do for now. He had bigger things to worry about…

…like the crowd of guards behind him.

He turned around to glare at them. "Don't you have more important things to be doing besides…" He paused to think of the word. "…ogling me?"

They all jumped when he said something, many nodded their heads and returned to their duties of putting out the fires and counting the dead – some hovered around, eyes still upon the Dragonborn.

He sighed while Mjoll laughed. "Oh, come on! I'm sure you like the attention," she said. Alodie went to glare at her, pulling his leather greaves over his once injured arm.

"_Sure_…" he muttered with extreme sarcasm. He looked over his right shoulder and noticed that Hadvar was quickly approaching him. He sighed, realizing he still had _that_ problem. Mjoll stood up seeing the Imperial soldier.

"Did you know that you could… do that?" Hadvar asked. Alodie narrowed his eyes at the Imperial. Of course he didn't know he could do that – did they see any other dead dragons around? His stare answered all of Hadvar's questions so he nodded a few times. "I see… strange," he said.

"What?" Alodie asked.

"It's just… isn't it a coincidence that you happened to be there right when the dragons returned?" he proposed. Alodie raised his eyebrows. "I mean… if we had killed you a second earlier—"

"I don't really care about the 'what if's' if that is what you are asking," Alodie replied. He looked down at his arm, healing a few cuts on his cheek caused by the debris. Hadvar sighed. He still wasn't sure about this whole thing. If the Thalmor even knew Alodie was Dragonborn before Alodie knew about it… he was very afraid of what else they could do. As if they could jump through time…

Or maybe it was simply a coincidence.

Alodie stood up then, flexing his arms – his new "disciples" glancing towards him with anticipation. He sighed. He really didn't want to be this "Dragonborn" – he highly doubted that he could excuse himself from these matters now. He wanted to simply lay low – he thought that the Thieves Guild would do that for him. But now… Whiterun might ruin that for him. Gossip would spread around like wild fire. If he was in danger already, things have now gotten even worse.

He didn't want the "responsibility." These guards looked up to him, revered him even, by being something he was not. Sure, he killed a dragon, but he didn't care about what happened afterward. And that shout… purely in the heat of the moment. He would probably never use something like that again.

And yet… those voices… Dovahkiin? He knew about "Dragonborn" but he didn't understand what "Dovahkiin" meant. Something told him, however, that something up there in the mountains was calling towards him.

Irileth sauntered inside the tower then, rubbing off the ashes from her already ash colored skin. She sighed.

"We are going to abandon this post until we can get everything situated," she said. She pointed towards a group of guards who saluted. "Pick up the wounded and leave the dead. We will sort this out later." They nodded, picking up the makeshift stretchers – leaving those that had died alone. It was a grime sight – reminding Alodie that although they had killed a dragon, many others had died in the process.

And he still didn't know how many more of them were out there.

Aerin and Marcurio walked in then, after the tower had been cleared of the injured. Marcurio held something aloft, handing it to Alodie.

"Dropped something there," he muttered. Alodie glared at his sword for a second before sheathing the electric blade. Marcurio looked towards Alodie's arm. "It doesn't look like you did a good job, you know," he said. Alodie glared at him while Hadvar lifted his eyebrows at the wizard. The mage hadn't really talked much since the beginning of all of this.

Mjoll rolled her eyes, glancing towards the setter. "Okay, I tried you twit," she said.

Marcurio crossed his arms. "Maybe if Mr. Tenacious over here let me heal his stupid arm, we wouldn't be having this problem!" Alodie narrowed his eyes.

Aerin gave his infamous sigh. "Look, we really need to go guys so you might—"

"Well, maybe if Mr. I-can-do-everything-you-can't didn't fall asleep during his watch…" Alodie muttered inaudibly.

"Guys…" Aerin muttered.

Marcurio stamped his foot like a little girl. "You are _still_ mad about that? I can't believe you!"

"Actions speak louder than words," Alodie said. "And so far, your words are _unquestionably_ louder than your actions."

"Guys?"

"When did you get to be so chatty? I thought you were a mute," Marcurio retorted.

"Guys!"

Everyone turned to face Aerin whose face was completely flushed with anger. "What?" they both asked in unison.

Aerin pointed to the exit. "Everyone's left so…"

Mjoll sighed, patting Aerin quickly on the shoulder. "I agree. Let's go before they leave us behind in this burnt up tower," she said. Hadvar was standing by the exit, waiting for the fight that had occurred between Alodie and Marcurio to end. Alodie blushed slightly, seeing how he was holding everyone up and began to walk briskly out of the tower. He was followed by everyone else.

A few guards were milling about outside and turned around quickly when they saw Alodie. "You're the Dragonborn…" one muttered. Alodie shook his head as the guards were beginning to salute, causing them to stare back in confusion.

"Look… just pretend I don't exist," he said. The guards looked at each other before shrugging, returning to their business. Irileth was walking off into the distance, returning to Whiterun. Alodie sighed. He didn't know where to go next. He thought that maybe he should just leave immediately – escape the crowd of people that would most likely mob him for being something he knew nothing about. Whatever happened with the dragon wasn't real, he decided. It had all been a dream. He would return to Riften a member of the Thieves Guild and one of Maven's "lackeys." Nothing weird would have happened to him.

Oh, if only that had been true.

"You really need to see the Jarl about this… Dragonborn business," he heard Hadvar as he came alongside him. They were almost there as they marched towards Whiterun. Mjoll and Aerin had decided to walk near the front of the line while Alodie, Hadvar, and Marcurio trailed behind. Alodie sighed.

"Look, I want nothing to do with your politics or your petty squabbles. I want to return to what I was doing before… before all of this," Alodie said. He walked a bit faster. "So, leave me alone."

"Pretending that this power isn't there isn't going to make it go away," Hadvar said. Alodie slowed down at this, glancing at Hadvar. Seeing that he had Alodie's attention, he continued. "You may not know much about the Dragonborn, but to us Nords, the Dragonborn is more than just a political figure," he started. Alodie narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Hadvar tilted his head. "The Dragonborn is a dragon hunter. The one to combat the end times. It was one of the reasons why Skyrim followed the Septims – Talos had been a Dragonborn. The people in Skyrim will start comparing you to him – to every Dragonborn there ever was. Eventually, both the Empire and the Stormcloaks will be offering a place in this war for you," he said. "And there will be no stopping it." Alodie looked away quickly.

"I don't… want to choose a side," he said. They passed the few farms, cows chewed on the prairie grass while the farmers looked up at the train of guards. Hadvar looked sadly towards the ex-fugitive before sighing.

"You either choose one side or become the enemy of both," he said. He smirked shaking his head. "Please… don't become another Balgruuf. You cannot deny what you are."

Alodie took a moment to consider this, looking up towards the mountain where the voice had come from. He wasn't denying it… it was impossible to. He just… didn't want this burden. He wanted to find peace not war. He didn't want to do the same mistakes by choosing the wrong side. So he didn't want to choose anyone.

Hadvar noticed Alodie's doubtful look. "Look… between you and me, you've already earned your pardon," he said. Alodie looked up in surprise. A _pardon_? From the _Empire_? Hadvar lifted his hands. "Though… I will need to get it from General Tullius… For now, just relax. Keep calm, and let me handle it." He smiled. "As an old saying goes – with great power comes great responsibility. Don't overreact; you might go a little crazy."

Alodie snorted. "I don't need your advice," he said, turning away. After all, Hadvar was going to just watch him die over two weeks ago. He didn't think that they should start being too overly friendly. At least… not now… not when his friendship equaled a powerful ally – at least to the Nords.

He caught up to Mjoll who was near the front of the line, talking to Irileth about the battles they had had in the past. He was rather sure that such a discussion would have bored him half to death more than amount to any sort of understanding. He picked up the ending of it though.

"Back then, Jarl Balgruuf was in a bit over his head. I had to save him so many times I can't even count," Irileth said. He saw Mjoll smirk.

"He sounds a lot like Alodie. Stubborn yet determined," she said, laughing. Alodie narrowed his eyes but didn't make to interrupt them. Irileth glanced Mjoll over quickly.

"Is he the Dragonborn that my men keep gushing on about?" she asked.

Mjoll nodded slowly. "Yes… he is," she said, rubbing the back of her head.

Irileth sighed. "He looks like a dangerous one. I wouldn't trust him," she said. She began to walk away, Mjoll surprised at the Dunmer's dark words. Mjoll turned away towards the windmill and spotted Alodie who was now walking beside her. She jumped.

"H-how long have you been there?" she asked.

Alodie shrugged. "Long enough to learn that I'm stubborn and dangerous," he said, crossing his arms. Mjoll sighed, shaking her head. He really was like a phantom – he could be right in front of someone and they would never really know. They were crossing the bridges into Whiterun now.

Mjoll sighed. "You scared me," she said.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. She glanced up, surprised. _That was… probably the first time he's ever apologized… truly apologized…_she thought.

"Oh… you really don't need to apologize… I'm just… you know…" Great, she was stuttering. Alodie crossed his arms.

"No, really, I'm sorry you're so oblivious to your own surroundings," he said, smirking slightly. Mjoll's face boiled red. She hated him! Hated his guts! She wished she had never helped him that day in Riften!

Strange… although he was now the Dragonborn of legend, (she coughed to herself just thinking about Alodie being _legendary_) nothing between them had changed. He was still the same sneaky bastard from before and he was still a completely heartless jackass from before. He did seem a bit more open now – more happy. Maybe… just maybe… he could change for the better.

Seeing his guiltless face, however, gave Mjoll no hope whatsoever to allude to that fact.

**End of Part II: Before the Storm**

* * *

**Zu'u Mirmulnir! Faas zu wo los nu staadnau! **– I am Mirmulinir! Fear me who is now unbound!

**Hio nis krii ahrk dov, meyes joore!** – You cannot kill the dragons, foolish mortals!

**Hiomey – **You fool.

**Hio kos ni aan Dovah. Vanmindoraan… ** – You are not a dragon. Impossible…

**Faal Lein-Naak alokos, ahrk faal Dez meyz nau faal laat Dovahkiin… – **The World-Eater awakes, and the Wheel turns upon the last Dragonborn. (_literally – The World-Eater awakes , and the fate comes upon the last Dragonborn. But since there is no word for "wheel" … let's just say the fate=wheel for now ;) I wish that there were more words! I feel like making up some would be cheating…)_

**100,000 words! And still counting... T_T Phew, sorry for the length but this was an important chapter... I hope I got everything right, I did enjoy it, though :) Finally Alodie kills a dragon :D! Tell me what you thought about this chapter! Was the dragon fight good or was it too lack luster? Post me your comments!**

_Hinode~Dawn_


	17. By Honor and Purpose

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

**Part III: The Way of the Voice**

* * *

_"Upon my honor I do swear undying loyalty to the Emperor, Titus Mede II, and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great Empire. May those above judge me, and those below take me, if I fail in my duty. Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!"_

The Empire's Oath

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: By Honor and Purpose**

* * *

**Rain's Hand 6****th**** 4E 201 – Five Months before the Dragon's Return**

Alodie scratched his head, leaning against a tall pillar beside the offices of Commander Maro. He was nervous, that was entirely sure. After all, he didn't know on what occasion he was being summoned to the commanding officer of the Oculatus. He only hoped that he hadn't stirred anything up.

Someone came out of the office and glanced solemnly towards him. Quill held the door open. Her face told him the entire story. Things did not look good for them.

He sighed, taking the door from her. She patted his shoulder once. "Don't worry. Maro is a paranoid bastard for sure, but he is as arrogant as a festered goblin," she said, smirking. None of that reassured him, however.

He walked into the white marbled office, red rugs decorated the place and bookshelves lined the walls – all of them filled with tomes of war strategies and weapon guides. Commander Maro sat at his desk – paler then most Imperials mostly due to the fact that he worked 24/7 within the Pentius Oculatus headquarters. Behind him was a tall window showing a beautiful view of the White-Gold tower that stood in the middle of the gigantic wheel of a city.

He knew that, at an hours walk, his sister – Eiruki – lived along the waterfront with her husband, Finius. Alodie never really liked the man and didn't know what his sister saw in him, but he really couldn't do anything about it. As long as she was happy.

The Commander glanced up then and noticed Alodie who stood idly by the door. He placed his quill down and rolled up his report, motioning with it towards the chair.

"Sit, agent," he said. Alodie took his seat, moving his dark cloak to the side as he sat on the leather cushion. He waited for the Commander to continue but he was only met with silence. As he didn't know exactly what to say, he glanced out the window towards the large city below – the people like grains of rice. Maro sighed. "I want you to tell me, agent, what is going on?" he asked.

Alodie frowned. "I do not know what you are talking about, sir—"

"Oh, just quit the act already," he muttered, placing his scroll down. The Commander rubbed the bridge of his nose gently, most likely impatient. "I sent you on the mission weeks ago, agent, and still _nothing_? What have you been doing?" he asked, slamming his fist down. "You are one of the finest here, Alodie. I expected more from you."

The young Imperial lowered his head, narrowing his eyes. "I… know, sir. It's just… I find it hard to believe that there is any treachery amongst us," he responded. "I did a background check on everyone, including even you sir, and yet, nothing came up. If there is any debauchery—"

"I'm tired of excuses, agent," Maro interrupted, removing his hand from his face. "What I want is answers and you can't even give me that." He sighed, picking up a scroll from inside his desk. He held it towards Alodie for him to take. The young Imperial glanced at it nervously, before looking up in confusion.

"What is—?"

"That, agent, is your warrant of treason," he said. Alodie's eyes widened as he looked down towards the scroll. He shook his head slowly, not believing what was happening.

"Sir…" he muttered softly. He gripped the scroll tightly. "I didn—"

"And it will come into effect unless you get me the information I know is there," he said. "What the Emperor knows is there." He sat back in his seat, placing the scroll down carefully onto the desk. He noticed that he was sweating and tried to hide his nervousness. Fortunately, Maro didn't notice.

"But… how exactly does the Emperor know information like that?" Alodie asked. The Commander shook his head, surprised at the agent's ignorance.

"Many people wish the Emperor dead, agent. I thought you knew that when you proclaimed your oath years ago," he said. He stood up and walked towards the window, looking towards the Imperial Palace – still a bit ruined from the Great War – the inside walls still under construction. He sighed. "Without the Mede's, the Empire would have died a long time ago. Titus Mede I created this facility for that very reason – to protect a dying Empire while the Blades simply stood at the side, still grieving for a dead Emperor. A dead era." He changed his glance towards the White-Gold tower. "Tell me, agent, do you remember the war?"

Alodie shrugged. "I was born after the incident, Commander," he said. Maro nodded his head, slowly.

"I fear that people are forgetting," he said simply.

Alodie closed his mouth slowly, puzzled. "Who, sir?"

Maro turned to face the agent sadly. "The traitors," he muttered. "They all forget that the Emperor's position does not hold the amount of power it used to have." Alodie lowered his head, suddenly growing guilty. They both remained silent, Maro turning around to stare calmly out towards the city once again – the sun beginning to set.

He shook his head. "You know your duty, Alodie." And that was all he said as Alod left him, alone, pondering the future.

He saw Quill leaning against the same pillar he had left but a few moments before. She glanced towards him, silent as she ever was. He decided to leave it that way, heading towards the flight of stairs, passing a few Legions encased in iron armor down the hall. Quill followed silently.

They made it outside, Alodie nodding politely towards the gate guard as he filed out heading across the wide bridge into the main city. Quill remained silent behind him, anticipating the worst. After all, he had been in there for quite longer then she was. As they made their way through the Market District, many people closing up shop, they headed towards the grate.

They were both familiar with the grate ever since the rift between the Oculatus occurred. It was a schism that had gone unnoticed by the Empire – a schism amongst the spy organization. They still hadn't made their first move, trying to find the right time to strike, but they felt that it would be soon.

In stories of old, the grate was used by the Mythic Dawn – a cult that had once taken the life of an Emperor. Since no one wanted to even go near it, it only felt right to use it in their own plans against the weak Empire. Alodie checked the streets before pulling the grate up, climbing down the ladder. He was followed by Quill who silently put the grate back into place as they slid down the hole towards the sewers of the Imperial City.

Torches lit their path along with the voices they heard down the hall. Alodie raised the hood of his cloak as he and Quill entered the large room. Around twenty Oculatus and Elder Council members stood or sat near a large circular table, lit by another grate above it – though, it did give them trouble when it was raining, which was almost every day.

On the end of the table sat the mastermind of their group, Amaund Motierre. The man was now growing a wild beard and had a smirk forever plastered on his face. When the Councilman saw Quill and Alodie, he clapped his hands gently. "Everyone, please be seated," he said. Everyone took a seat except for his nominated bodyguard, Rexus, the small chatter dying away. Alodie took his seat across from Motierre while Quill sat on his right side.

The important man across from him pushed aside a few scrolls so as to get a better view of things. "You know why we are all meeting here today – as rare it is that we all do," he began. Alodie didn't want to be there. He never did. But he had to. "I believe that most of us are under the consensus that the Empire is weak under Titus Mede II rule?" he asked, mostly to himself. Most nodded, Quill being among them. Alodie sat silently.

"It has always been our consensus, Motierre," said a Council Member – a rich noble from Chorrol. The backstabbing man Motierre nodded his head – eyeing the young man, Alodie. He had followed his "friend," Quill, to the grate a month ago and it proved to be his mistake. The Councilman still wasn't sure which side he was on.

"So… the Dark Brotherhood?" he asked though he already had his plan thought out. It was Quill who interrupted his idea.

"We searched Bravil and Cheydinhal, my lord," she said. "We found what had once been their hideout. They're all dead." Alodie always winced when she called him a "lord." He didn't know why.

Motierre always noticed this. "I don't think so," he muttered. "The Dark Brotherhood _is_ death and they _will_ be the Emperor's." A few Councilmen and Oculatus members moved uncomfortably in their seats. No one was keen on the idea of using the Dark Brotherhood. Alodie felt like rolling his eyes at their hypocrisy but fixed his sight elsewhere onto the ceiling halfway doing so.

"And we cannot kill the Emperor now – not when so many of us reside here!" He slammed his hand onto the table. "Already the others grow suspicious. The old paranoid fool Maro is already trying to find traitors, using even the very members amongst us." He smiled at the irony of this. "This plan will take time and, fortunately for us, time is on our hands," he said.

_But not on mine_, Alodie thought bitterly. He normally stayed silent during the meetings, he never really wanted to contribute to a cause he was not sure he was even for.

The meeting continued with a basic report of the month, followed by the complaints by both Oculatus and Elder Councilmen on raised taxes. A rich man from High Rock complained that most of his people were starving because of the levy while some were complaining just to complain. They were the Elder Council below the Elder Council – the dark council, Alodie thought grimly. It was one of the reasons why he hated politics.

The meeting ended as it always did, drowned with alcohol. Some Pentius spies were so drunk that they couldn't even climb the ladder out. Most of the Councilmen stayed reasonable sober – mostly out of practice – and filed out silently holding their bottles tightly as if their secrets would be spilled to the world if they let go.

Alodie hadn't even touched his drink. He remained sitting on the mock circular table – staring up into the grate above, rain beginning to pour into the empty middle. Masser reflected itself onto the small puddle that was forming in the middle of the hollow table – the grate below completely flooded.

He didn't even know why he came. He didn't know why they wanted him to come. He wasn't special in anyway. Most of the members of the "club" were either high ranking Pentius Oculatus spies – their pockets lined with gold – or corrupt Council members. He knew that the leader – Motierre – was hiding something from him. Maybe they thought that he was dangerous.

He had found the grate a month ago. He noticed on and off Quill making her way towards the main city in the middle of the night and was curious. He hadn't known that he would end up in so much trouble – forced into secrecy under the pain of death of him and those he loved. He had wanted to tell Maro then, He wanted to tell him everything.

But, he couldn't.

Because no one would believe him.

No one would believe that an entire dark government made plans underneath the Imperial City's streets. That the heir to the Motierre family, Amaund Motierre, was planning the death of the Emperor. So, why did he want him? What traits did he have that even amounted to anything?

He would soon find out.

"Alod."

He turned around to face the contemptuous faced man, his eyes glowing almost with an unhealthy taste. He already knew that he was in trouble. The man sat down beside him, his eyes looked trusting enough but his smile became his second mask, hiding his ulterior motives. "You were quiet again for our meeting. Do you not care about the people of the Empire? Do you not care about all the sorts of atrocities the Emperor deals out to the people?"

_Do you not _care_ about how much power you want to get your hands on_? Alodie mocked. He looked away, finding the mildew in the stony corner to be more interesting.

"I think my presence isn't really needed," he replied honestly. For a second, Alodie actually thought the man looked concerned.

"'Isn't really needed?' Why, you are the most important member of our little group, Alod," he said matter-of-factly. He was smiling ear to ear as if he had worked this entire thing out.

The young Imperial looked up in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, disturbed. Whenever Motierre talked to him, he felt slimy, like a slug was crawling about on his insides. He shivered as the man laughed like a deranged slave master.

"I checked your records," he started. The ingratiating man smirked. "You have a gift like no other, so much so that your targets can't pinpoint the Oculatus' involvement." He smiled as he saw Alodie's eyes darken. "You did in that one Elder Council member – that one bloated pig from High Rock, a traitor like us. And he died in that tragic _accident_. There was no evidence— of course – that he did deal with the High Elves, but they sent _you_ to kill him anyway. Now," He looked slyly off to the side towards Alodie who was becoming even more uncomfortable, "why would they do that?"

Alodie remained silent, the empty halls reverberating from the rain above. Seeing as how he had no answer, the Councilman continued. "I know why," he said. "It's because you are – in lack of terms – a prodigy."

The young Imperial snorted.

_Prodigy_?

Prodigy Sheogorath's ass. What he did was what any other member of the spy group did – he followed orders without question and did the duty he was sworn to do – protect the Empire. He didn't like the Emperor. He was inadequate and although he appeared to get things done he actually did nothing to help the victims of the Great War. However, killing him would solve nothing. Killing him would only hurt the problem, not help it.

Yet, unfortunately, like a dog being pulled by his collar, he was forced to believe in it.

He still didn't know what Motierre's point was and crossed his arms. "What do you want with me?" he asked.

The ghost of a man smirked. "I want you to become the shadow – the headsman and the assassin," he said. Alodie's mouth immediately shot open— appalled at the idea. He would kill innocent people? In order to further _Motierre's_ goals? Just the thought of it made him sick.

When he killed for the Oculatus, he was doing it out of duty to the Empire, to his Emperor. But… what duty was there to a man he never swore oath to? He wasn't killing traitors or would be traitors – he would murder loyal people. Honor filled people – unlike him. It was the ultimate betrayal.

And Motierre was putting all the blood on his hands.

The man smirked, knowing that he won. "You do not have a choice," he reiterated as if he didn't already know. Alodie's head sunk lower, the moon completely gone from the small puddle of rain water. Thunder was heard rolling off into the distance.

"But… what about the Dark Brotherhood? I thought—"

"I can work without them for now," he replied. "And I have you, the acclaimed young prodigy of the Pentius Oculatus. The best assassin out there… besides the Dark Brotherhood of course." He slipped a small note onto the table, a small red dot closing the letter firmly with no formal seal being pressed onto the wax. Alodie glared at it as if it had been the warrant of treason Maro had showed him, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it.

"You do this for me," he said. "And I will distract Maro away from you as best as I can."

Alodie tried not to look at the letter but it was hard to resist. It was either Mortierre's betrayal of him to the Oculatus or be commanded by the tyrant and become their assassin. He then remembered Eiruki, his sister and motherly figure. She would probably become a true mother herself and he would become an uncle. He didn't want this man to take away all that he truly cared about. A traitor to the Oculatus means death to all of his relations. And Mortierre – his name sounding like death – knew that.

The Councilman smiled when the young Imperial slowly picked up the letter and undid the seal. He nodded his head. "That's it. That's a good lad," he said.

"I'm not doing this for you, bastard," he whispered harshly. The man laughed out loud, leaning on the table, more relaxed now that he took his offer.

"You can believe that all you want, Alodie. But you know this is for the best."

Alodie didn't listen to him as he ripped the parchment open, taking a nicely embroidered sheet of paper from the letter. He scanned it once then again but the only information on it was, "Hit – Ergo Tiselius. Relation: Count of Kvatch. Deadline: One week." He didn't know why he was killing a _Count _of all things or why he had a deadline to commit the act but… he had a feeling that it had something to do with Mortierre's plans.

He looked up in order to ask but found that he was alone, Mortierre along with his bodyguard gone. He was about to burn it on one of the torches before he noticed a note on the back of the paper. "Cause of Death: Natural."

He sighed. He would have to make his job even harder now, wouldn't he?

* * *

He walked among the ships, treading upon the white marbled bridge towards the poverty section of the Imperial City – the Waterfront. It had been an important section during the war being used by both the Imperials and the Thalmor in their attacks on the city. Besides the front gate which was a heavily fortified bottle neck, the only way inside the city was by sea. It was one of the reasons why most of the city was in extreme poverty now. He had heard from old Dark Elf captains as a boy that most of their goods came from Morrowind and Elsweyr a long time ago either in the form of ebony or salts. The Third Era had been a rich time indeed.

But now that Morrowind had blown its top and most of Elsweyr had defected to the Thalmor, Cyrodiil was in a state of poverty where rich lords spent very little leaving the poor scrambling for every septim. He smiled, remembering fondly his small adventures in the Market, stealing a bit of food here and there in order to make a living. Mortierre was right in one thing; he could sneak by almost anyone and anything. He was the shadow.

He passed a few Imperial soldiers who had finished their rounds planning to go to a brothel while no one was watching. They laughed heartily, paying no attention to the Pentius Oculatus spy walking by them, his light red and bronze armor with the Empire's dragon carved in the front and his dark cape fluttering in the wind.

Alodie went behind the large wall of the Waterfront, used mostly to combat catapults. He could see a bit through the evening air a few marking on the side of the wall from the gigantic rocks shot from the catapults during the Great War. Eiruki rarely spoke about the Great War but he knew that it had left a mark in her young life.

He ducked through a gate towards the backside of the Waterfront, the slum. This was where he spent most of his life, where he had been raised.

Eiruki took him up when their mother had died during childbirth. The birth of him. She told him that his father had died a long time ago – during the last skirmishes of the Great War. However, no matter how many times he asked his older sister, she never told him his father's name. And their mother had no last name – a poor peasant bastard from the Waterfront – so his name had always been Alodie – just Alodie.

He wondered if his father had been a warrior from Skyrim. Maybe he was a Nord and that was why his name was Nordic while his sister's was reminiscent of High Rock. In fact, they didn't have the same father – Alodie was certain of that. Eiruki looked nothing like him – her long dark brown curls and rounded cheeks completely paralleled his rough black locks and pointed features. As a child, she continued to say that he looked like their mother but he hadn't believed that when he asked the recently blind old man next door to their small hut about it.

"_Your mother?"_ he had said. The old man laughed. "No…You look _exactly_ like your father."

"What was he like?" he remembered asking.

The old man smiled fondly, his blind eyes trying to search his small ones. "You only have to look at yourself in order to see your father, boy. You are… _exactly_ like him, smart and reckless and impulsive. Met your mother years ago as a boy then disappeared. Said he wanted to learn more about the world, about _magic_." The decrepit old man smiled. "Then he came back when he heard about the attack on the Imperial City and they fell in love again." He frowned then. "I have a feeling he regretted it though since he left the day your mother learned she was pregnant with you."

He was going to ask more but the old man then had a coughing spurt and went quickly to his broken cabinets to grab his tonic. He had left after that, forgetting his all important question of his father's name. The sickly old man had died the next day from the spurt. He had always regretted that.

The shack he was going to was Eiruki's. He didn't live there now, choosing to live mostly in the Pentius Oculatus barracks, but visited his sister every day in order to see how she was doing. When he entered the shack he had grown up in – made a bit nicer now that he was beginning to bring in some money – Eiruki and her husband were having a fight.

"He isn't, you hear me!" he heard Eiruki yell. Finius shook his head, sitting in a newly built chair – bought through Alodie's efforts. Her husband stared into the fire, obviously trying to calm down.

"Who brings in 500 septims after one day? He's hiding something, Eiruki. Your own _brother_ is hiding you from something," he said. When he turned and spotted Alodie by the door he jumped.

Finius was a fisher off the piers and made a living selling fish to the highest bidder. It was a rare thing to catch normal fish in Lake Rumour and most days the man found himself without. That was why most called him Finius the Broke Fisher – the _only_ fisher off the pier. And Alodie didn't see what his sister saw in him. Only a fool fished off the pier.

Apparently he wasn't as foolish as Alodie first believed. Eiruki smiled when she saw her brother, making a quick glare to her husband. "Alod, you haven't been doing anything weird recently, right?" she asked, smiling as if she had already won. He frowned.

"I don't even know what you're talking about," he said in truth. He had, after all, just walked into the conversation. He husband bristled.

"Look. Already, wishy-washy," he said, waving his hand.

Eiruki grew serious, her eyes filled with worry. She came closer to Alodie and began to fidget with him like she was his mother, fixing his crooked clasp, smoothing his windblown hair, and then patted his shoulders from any dust. "Where were you? You usually come in time for dinner," she said.

He sighed, finding the table that was far away from Finius and sitting down quickly. "Commander Maro wanted to see me about the mission. He's grown ever paranoid about a breach in security since those rebels broke out in Skyrim a month ago," he said. It was all excuses though.

Eiruki sat with him, brushing back her hair as she did, not even looking at her husband. Finius had all but ignored them. "What's wrong? You look pale," she observed. "Are you sick? You always work yourself too hard Alod. Don't tell me you're getting rockjoint – it's that time of year…" He let his sister ramble on while his heart began to grow heavy. He was doing this for her – he had always done this for her. He would give up his own life for her. And yet… she always had to worry about him – a job like this put his life in danger every day.

He sighed sitting forward. "I'm leaving tomorrow, Rue," he said. Eiruki frowned, puzzled.

"But… your birthday is tomorrow. You never had a good birthday before and now—"

He smiled as she was talking before interrupting her. "I have no choice. This is more important," he said.

Eiruki huffed. "You always have to put others before yourself. When will that change? You need to concentrate on yourself sometimes little brother," she said. Alodie's smile remained plastered on his face. Eiruki was so naïve, believing the world to be a kinder place. She always believed there to be a peaceful solution to every problem and hated conflicts. Especially that one time when she tried to stop a guard from killing a thief. He hadn't listened to her though and killed him anyway.

"I'll try," he said.

Eiruki shook her head. "It's not enough to try. You have to do," she said.

He frowned, placing his hand on hers. "Then… I will," he said.

"Then stay here," she said. "Don't go."

"I have to, Eiruki. It… it can't be argued," he said. He heard Eiruki's husband huff off to the side. He ignored him.

Eiruki sneered, bringing her hand off from under his. "Fin is right then. You did change. Ever since the Oculatus recruited you—"

"It's not… I have a duty now," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I have a duty to protect you. From… from…" He trailed off before remembering his place. "I need you to trust me, sister. I'm fine. I can handle this."

Eiruki didn't even look him in the eyes when she responded. "Protect me from what? You don't even tell me anything, Alodie! Before… before _them_, we were a family. We were together." She turned away from him. "And all the riches in the world won't change that. All the money… I don't care about that!"

Alodie sighed. "I'm not a little boy anymore, Rue," he said. Eiruki's angered face softened then. She knew that what he had said had been true. He was twenty-four – about to turn twenty-five. Her little brother had grown up before her eyes. She shrank back before standing, walking towards the only other room in the shack. Finius remained silent, glaring at Alodie like he had stabbed his wife in the chest.

"You're right I…" his sister trailed off. "I have no right to change your mind… If this is what you want…" She bit her lip before turning around. She walked towards a wardrobe and opened a small drawer taking out a long necklace. Along the chain was the symbol of Talos – illegal now because of the Concordat. Alodie looked at it strangely.

"What is—?"

"Your father's," she said. She walked up to him and put it around his neck, smiling softly. "Mother told me on her death bed to give it to you only when you were ready. She told me before she... died… that your father believed in the gods fiercely, especially Talos. It is only right that you have it now. "

"Rue… you know worship of Talos is illegal now because of the Concordat."

"Screw the Concordat. No one followed it anyway – even the Redguards," she said, smirking. Alodie nodding knowing her words to be true. No one would know.

He touched the necklace fondly and grasped it within his fist. He looked at it quietly, noticing an engraving of a circle within a diamond on the back. He found the marking curious but didn't ask Eiruki about it knowing that she wouldn't answer his questions. He looked up into Eiruki's deep blue eyes that held an immense amount of sadness.

"Happy birthday and… I love you little Alod," she said. "When you do go… remember that you'll always be my little brother… " She then smiled slowly looking deeply into her little brother's eyes. "Always."

* * *

**Present Day, Heartfire 9****th****, 4E201**

* * *

Alodie glanced outside Dragon's Reach, looking out the window, hail and small flurries pounding the large window. His fist grabbed near his heart, finding a deep emptiness where a chain had been. They had taken everything away from him, his sister, his home… even his father. He wasn't paying attention to the people at the dining table – Thanes had flocked him as soon as the news went around that he was Dragonborn.

The drunken rabble were talking to him now, one Thane he remembered from the inspection raising his glass. "So, was it your ma or your pa that was the dragon?" he asked. Everyone laughed except for Alodie, Mjoll, and Aerin. Marcurio laughed at everything.

_Probably my pa_, Alodie thought sarcastically, drinking his mead deeply. It was the night after the dragon incident; the Jarl wasn't able to meet with him or Hadvar due to the immense amount of work restoring Whiterun to normal. After all, trading routes had been closed off until the attack was over.

The people were talking. About him and about the dragon. He was asked many times to demonstrate his shout but if he was honest with himself, the power frightened him. Mjoll still hadn't talked to him about it, remaining silent as they went through some old tomes in Farengar's study, trying to figure out what the shouting up the mountain meant.

When Hadvar interrupted him, saying that he had spoken to the Jarl, he was asked to come, alone, to the Jarl's study. He was expecting the worst.

"Relax, drink," the Jarl had said as he waved to the seat in front of him. His Housecarl was nowhere to be found, a strange sight for one who knew that Irileth never left the Jarl's side.

Before, Alodie wouldn't have gotten this much attention. Before he was just the hired merc who happened across a Dragonstone. Before, Jarl Balgruuf hadn't even looked at him. And now… he was Dragonborn. And he didn't really want to be.

They were both silent as Alodie drank from his cup, glancing up periodically towards the Jarl. He didn't really know the proper way to address a Jarl so he just went with what he knew.

"What is it that you want from me, my Grace?" he asked. Jarl Balgruuf seemed to choke on his wine, laughing heartily at the young man.

"_Grace? _Don't be so formal. I'm not the High King," he said, jokingly. Alodie blushed softly realizing that he already made a mistake. Balgruuf continued. "You are a rather curious lad, no doubt." He refilled his glass, wiping a few wine stains from his blond beard. "Hadvar told me everything and to be honest, I hold nothing against you. The Thalmor are the worst of sorts."

Alodie looked at him with confusion. "Thalmor?" he said.

Balgruuf's eyebrows shot up. "You don't know? The Thalmor were the ones who put you in Helgen. You a prisoner of the Empire... though not any longer." He sighed placing down the bottle. "But enough of that. We still need to deal with what you saw at the tower."

He didn't know? Hadn't Hadvar told him? "The tower…"

"I want to hear your side of it," the Jarl explained, folding his hands.

Alodie nodded his head, confused. "It… the dragon appeared near the break of dawn. The soldiers said they couldn't stop it. We had no chance…"

"And yet here you are," the Jarl said, smiling.

"I… well, I don't know why, but I attacked the beast. I was stupid and irrational. I wasn't thinking…" Alodie looked slowly down onto the desk with many parchments and scrolls filling it. It reminded him strangely of Commander Maro's desk and it caused him to shudder. "Then… when it died… I absorbed the dragon's fire." He shook his head. "I… have no idea what it was. Apparently, I'm Dragonborn, though."

"Dragonborn? What do you know about the Dragonborn?" the Jarl asked, truthfully questioning him.

Alodie shrugged. "It's just what the men called me," he said.

The Jarl laughed out loud, shaking his head. He took another drink of his wine, this time being a bit more careful. He placed down his cup. "Not just the men – but the Greybeards as well."

Alodie thought he had heard the term said before and yet didn't know what it meant. "Greybeards?" he asked.

Balgruuf tilted his head. "For being Dragonborn, you are surely ignorant of our ways," he said, smirking. He sat back in his chair, more relaxed. "The Greybeards are the masters of the voice. In days of old, Talos of Atmora climbed the 7,000 steps to High Hrothgar's peak. I've been there twice. A peaceful yet brutal place." He took another drink. "The Greybeards have called for the Dovahkiin… the Dragonborn. For you. It is a great honor to be called by the Greybeards. I wouldn't just ignore them."

Alodie didn't like this. Before, he had hoped to go back to Riften without a care in the world, ignoring what had happened to him here. But now some old men wanted to take him up a cold desolate mountain and for what? Why was he supposed to go up there? Why was he needed?

Balgruuf saw Alodie's defiance and sighed, sitting forward. "You aren't sure, granted. You weren't raised in Skyrim – you're not a Nord – but that never mattered. You have a destiny now," he said. "The dragons have returned… this can only mean the end times. And only the Dragonborn can save us."

"I don't…" Alodie was shaking his head. He didn't want this. He… just wanted to rest. Maybe even find out who his father had been. He didn't want to see that dark dragon, he didn't want to kill a dragon, he… just wanted _peace_.

_Alone_. "You-I can't _do_ that. I—"

The Jarl raised a hand. "This is a lot to put on someone's shoulders but I have faith in you. You look like a young man who has already seen much in his life. The gods have already decided." He lowered his hand. "You don't call yourself the Dragonborn, young Imperial. You just are. And there is no stopping the powers of fate itself."

"_You don't call yourself a thief, lad,"_ he remembered Brynjolf telling him. "_You just are one."_ Bryn had been right about that, in more ways than one. How could he deny something he was born to do? He didn't even know why he was doing it.

The Jarl sighed picking up a scroll. "You are in need of responsibility… so from henceforth you are a Thane of Whiterun," he said, unraveling the scroll. He turned it around to face Alodie who was bewildered. A Thane in Cyrodiil standards was a lord of the Count – a high ranking position. And simply because he was _Dragonborn_.

He shook his head. "No, I can't."

"You can," the Jarl insisted, placing a quill beside him. "Once you sign you will be given your own Housecarl and title. You are allowed to lead Whiterun's soldiers into battle in my stead if the hold is ever threatened..." The Jarl smiled when he saw Alodie's nervous face. "You will do fine," he reassured.

He couldn't simply refuse a _Jarl _so he picked the quill up slowly and signed his name, the Jarl nodding his head – knowing what he was truly doing. _He is bound by my honor now,_ he thought. He could not join the war now.

He turned it around and glanced at his signature, smiling. "Alodie… strange, a Nordic name…" the Jarl rolled the scroll up. "It means Warrior-Hunter-Deceiver in the ancient tongue." He smiled. "It was meant to be."

His thoughts returned to the dinner being held without the Jarl, his place among the egotistical Thanes and their sons and daughters. He wasn't sure if such a thing was an honor now.

He glanced towards Mjoll who sat beside him, eating the leg of a goat in slow munches. Hadvar sat a few seats away, leaving as soon as he finished. He was leaving first thing in the morning whether to spread to the news to the General or go on some other task for him. Alodie wondered why the Nord even came to Whiterun in the first place, his appearance was truly suspicious. He wondered what exactly General Tullius was planning.

He heard Mjoll talking to him. "I'm guessing you're going to High Hrothgar soon," she said, her gray eyes searching his. He turned away, shrugging.

"I might as well hear the old geezers out," he said. Mjoll frowned, putting her leg down onto her plate.

"This is an honor Alodie. I would treat it more like so," she said. Alodie glanced around the large dining table, seeing a drunken Marcurio – he was always drunk – flirting with a Thane's daughter. The horny bastard. He was surely going to be hit over the head by someone for that.

"My honor is my own, Mjoll. I thought you knew that," he said. He took another deep swill of his mead, feeling its dizzying effects starting to take hold. He placed it down quickly, holding his forehead. "I don't even want this, alright?" he said. Mjoll gave him a pitying look, noticing Alodie's untouched plate. After he left the Jarl's quarters, he hadn't spoken to anyone. Whatever Balgruuf had said left a mark on him.

Alodie sighed when his drink was gone and lifted a bottle of Black-Briar mead – strange since she remembered Alodie hating the beverage. It was the only thing around to drink though. He refilled his cup for the third time, spilling a bit of it onto the table. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to situate himself again. He placed the bottle down.

Many Thanes were already unconscious from the amount of drink being passed around. Mjoll was surprised Marcurio hadn't hit the hay. Aerin was already swaying from the drink and had run from the table – a light weight through and through. Mjoll tried to drink lightly knowing that she would go back to the Companions in the morning. Alodie hadn't even eaten, spending most of his time staring out the window sipping at his mead. She was worried for him.

"I mean – what _is_ honor anyway?" Alodie asked her, slamming his cup, the mead spilling out.

Mjoll shrugged, deciding to answer him. "It gives someone a purpose I think. My honor, at least, gives me a purpose," she said.

Alodie smirked, laughing out of intoxication. "_Purpose_," he whispered. He shook his head. "I used to have a purpose."

Mjoll took a small drink of her wine, looking away from Alodie. He was different under the effects of alcohol, more talkative for one. So, she wouldn't take advantage of his state and ask him the questions she was hoping to be answered.

Unfortunately, he was answering them for her. "Mortierre… _Oblivion_ _spawn_ – by my _honor_ I will kill him," he said. He rubbed the rim of his glass, his eyes growing sad. He shook visibly from the drink.

Mjoll tilted her head. "What did he do?" she asked out of reflex, her face darkening.

Alodie sighed as if he was dying and took another drink of his mead. He didn't really feel like telling her but he knew that it wouldn't hurt. What else could they do to him? He was _Dragonborn_ now. He laughed, shaking his head.

"I joined the Oculatus five years ago – worst mistake of my life. They told me that I was... _honoring_ the Empire with my service. That someday I would help win the next Great War. But still... I lied. No honor. And... I _failed_ Rue. I…" Alodie grabbed at the empty space around his neck, feeling hard leather. He felt his eyes water but held back his tears, swallowing. Tears did nothing to help anyone. He had learned that when he was being held by the Thalmor.

Mjoll remained silent as he continued. "… I _killed_ her. I lied to her. It… _that_ was the worst mistake of my life," he realized. He took another drink and held back a gag. He groaned, looking deeply into the dark liquid, seeing his reflection then smiled. "You have the right to hate me, Mjoll. I do nothing but hurt others – I am a curse upon this world. I couldn't get away from Maro, from Mortierre, from Maven… I am simply a tool to be used. A _slave_."

"I—who said I hated you?" she said. She placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling his pain through his skin. His eyes appeared angered yet his expression was sad… _alone_. "And… I never blamed you. The crimes they committed were their own – not yours. You've always had a choice, Alod."

He laughed once. "I never had a _choice_."

Mjoll moved her mouth once, deciding whether to argue until she realized that he was right. He hadn't decided to be the Dragonborn – he didn't decide to be a prisoner of Helgen. He hadn't chosen to absorb that dragon. And yet… he could have walked away. Any normal person would have run.

It was then that Mjoll realized that Alodie had indeed changed. She always hated when they ran from Riften, from their problems, instead of facing them. Maybe he was finally growing up.

She jumped when Alodie came closer to her, leaning against her, placing his head on her shoulder. She widened her eyes at this, confused. "Alod—"

"Shut up, I'm tired," he said, his eyes slowly closing. What she didn't know was that he was more than just physically tired.

She remained silent as he remained on her shoulder, her face breaking out into a startled blush. The only man that had come this close to her before had been her brother, her father, and a random drunken brigand she killed four years back – she wasn't used to such affections. Even Aerin never got this close. She always did prefer her personal space…

And yet, she didn't shove him off or yell at him. She just… let him rest. She smirked unbelievably, shaking her head, forcing the blush away – her thoughts foolish.

_After all...it would be a cruel thing not to._


	18. Far Horizons

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

**"**_Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."_

The Black Sacrament

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Far Horizons**

Three-Toes was a climber of the mountain. The old Nord was laughed at always by the small village of Ivarstead and yet he always climbed the steps every week earning him his three toes on both feet. Surprisingly though, he had never tripped upon the steps. Not on one.

Most believed that he climbed to find the gods, others said he climbed to meet his death, and yet no one truly knew why he climbed the mountain.

He tripped the day the Greybeards shouted from their mountain and fell to his death.

He was an extremist priest most believed as they stared into the river and yet no one paid any mind to the black and auburn colored Khajiit leaning against the bridge facing the mountain.

Quill sniffed the autumn air with distaste, tasting a bit of blood from the deer she had shot the day before on her teeth. People talked about the Greybeards shouting from their mountain and yet she had never heard them. She didn't know why.

She stood up hesitantly, reaching for her cheap bow made from an oak near Falkreath.

She remembered talking to Astrid before leaving for this mission. She was a fool, Astrid. She thought that her leadership of the Dark Brotherhood amounted to everything now since they couldn't hear the Mother whispering to them. Maybe it was due to the Mother not even being there. Quill wasn't working for her though and no amount of trust tests would change that.

She headed towards the town, ready to strike up the inn and find her target. It was a crazy man, Nazim had told her, though how crazy he was, she wasn't sure. It was obvious though that someone here wanted him dead. She was punished for not killing Alodie, but not severely. Her tip-cut tail bristled when a tight wind blew against her from the flurries coming from above the mountain. The sun rose from behind her against the shores of Lake Honrich. There she might find Alodie – there she might find him, _alive_.

Mortierre gave her power, gave her revenge. Her parents fled Elsweyr when she was young and were killed by Imperial soldiers who thought they were Thalmor spies. Quill doubted that was the reason, they were a father and mother traveling under Massar's _dre'arth_ – peace shadow. She laughed at the irony then. She was a spy but now she worked for the right people. The people who would eventually drive the Thalmor away.

Mortierre told her that he was a bastard. Alodie was the son of an Imperial who sold them out. She hadn't believed it at first, but when Alodie betrayed them to Maro… it was obvious as to who was right and who was wrong. She would follow Mortierre to the ends of Oblivion if need be – she would.

She told herself this and yet she still doubted herself.

_Alodie was once my friend_, she thought.

But friends changed like the moons.

When she entered the inn, she garnered a few stares. She didn't really care. The inn keeper was a drool sort of man whose daughter whored around with a few soldiers and field hands. She would beg to play for the lot and she would play while shoving her breasts into their face. Her passion was disgusting, yet she still wanted to hear the inn keeper's story about the beggar, Narfi.

He was not well liked. The beggar had lost his sister, Reyda, to a bear or a giant spider or… the inn keeper really didn't know. He was just telling her rumors.

The Nord offered the Khajiit a drink though she could tell he wanted her out of his inn. Khajiit's rarely treaded in the frozen lands of Skyrim and Quill could see why. She could feel the cold winds pierce her like a blade while Cyrodiil's warm sun had filled her with bliss. She was an assassin – replacing Alodie, Mortierre had told her – but out of all the things she couldn't kill, it was the cold.

"You leaving already?" the inn keeper asked. She hadn't heard the man as she walked away, snarling at the whore with her yellow teeth. She would finish her job then search for Alod once again. Then kill him for his betrayal.

She found the beggar across the river in a burned down house. At first she believed her thoughts were being spoken aloud as she walked in, skeever and hawk droppings littering the floor. She guessed that she was standing in the kitchen, noticing the clay pots and bowls in the corner. The house creaked as she placed her boots onto the charred floorboards.

"Reyda? You home? Reyda?" she heard someone calling out. The beggar was shivering beside an old fireplace as if it was still in working order. Strangely, he even held his hands out to it. "I knew you would be coming home!"

She didn't respond as he turned around, standing. He frowned when he saw the Khajiit. "Are you Reyda's friend? If so then join me for dinner. Yes… " He licked his lips. "_Dinner_."

She would normally be crept out by that but her fear had dissipated as soon as she had joined the Brotherhood. "I don't know your sister," she said.

The man frowned. "But… she's coming back, isn't she?"

"No, she's not," she said. She tightened her grip on her knife. The man couldn't frown any further then he could already.

"Oh! So she's spending the night in her alchemy cottage! She spends way too much time in there. She'll get eaten by bears someday, I swear." The beggar moved towards an empty table with plates. She noticed the remains of a skeever and its tail curled up beside it. In front of him was another plate with another skeever though this one had maggots and mold growing within it. She decided not to sit with the man and instead stood over him.

"She said she'd be back by dawn. I waited for dawn to come but nope! She talks to me though… in my dreams. I didn't know that she could do that!" He began to gobble down the skeever rabidly, pausing to breathe. "I told her that she should go to the college but nope! Who listens to poor little old Narfi?" He motioned towards the skeever. "And I made her some delicious minced pies too. I never cook. I never clean neither. Yet I did! You should be proud."

She loosened her hold on the knife a bit in order to walk closer to the man. The beggar smiled up at her. "You don't talk much, do yah? Oh, I know! Maybe she left for the college without telling me! She always says I worry too much. I always says go to the mages. She says no. I says yes. Maybe she listened to me for once!"

Quill was just a foot away from the beggar then and he didn't even notice as the knife descended upon him and a flash of movement. He grunted – yet didn't scream – as her knife found purchase in his chest. He smiled slightly, his eyes tearing up a bit as he fell from his seat, his red blood flowing down his bare chest like a river.

"…I always liked… seeing my sister in red…" he whispered. When dawn came, she burnt the house down until there was nothing left.

Narfi's body joined Three-Toes and his sister beneath the river where their blood ran the river red.

* * *

Alodie's vision was blurred and weak when he awoke the next day in one of the Jarl's posh guest rooms. He jumped up quickly then sat back again in pain, holding his head. He didn't remember much about last night of course, though he faintly remembered Mjoll dragging his half-conscious body down the hall to this room. What happened before that was anyone's guess.

He got up carefully, heading towards the washing basin and mirror, a pale and tired looking man staring back. His hand brushed over his short messy beard and decided to trim it up a bit since he looked like a drunken beggar. After washing himself, his headache gnawing at him, he grabbed his cloak that hung over a dull light blue cushioned chair and threw it on, clasping the circle and diamond together.

He could have sworn he had seen something like it, he pondered as he looked down onto the marking. And yet… he hadn't noticed it since after he drank the night away yesterday. Or since he became Dragonborn. He promised himself that he would ask Brynjolf about it when he returned.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Um… Alodie, you might want to see this," Aerin's voice called out. Alodie sighed loudly though it went unheard by the small Imperial. He opened the door to revel a new face. A tall Nordic woman stood lethargically against the wall beside his room, inspecting her blade. She glanced up when Alodie stepped out and sheathed her sword.

"I've gotten the men ready, my lord. We're ready to move on your call," she said.

Aerin was fussing. "Look, I told her that you wouldn't agree to this but she said that by her honor she had to follow her Thane so…"

Alodie closed his eyes tightly and held his forehead – whether from the pain or this whole new mess. How many people wanted to join him on his journey to High Hrothgar? This wasn't a free for all party where everyone could join. While he did have to go and visit these old men, he'd decided to do it… _alone_. And where was Mjoll? Why wasn't she here to argue against it as well?

The woman bowed quickly. "My name is Lydia, my Thane. I am your sword and shield, your Housecarl and protector. I will lay down my life for your name and honor," she said.

Alodie shook his head quickly. "No, no, no, no. Who sent you? I didn't ask for a bodyguard," he said. The Housecarl crossed her arms and gave him a small frown.

"A Housecarl isn't a simple 'bodyguard' my Thane," she said. "And… it's not as if I like it either – I don't want to protect and defend a milk-drinker – but the Jarl insisted that I went out and 'experienced the world' whatever that means. The fool thinks I don't have the backbone," she said.

"Then I order you to leave," Alodie quickly retorted.

Lydia looked like she was about to laugh. "He said you'd be troublesome…" she muttered before glancing up. "I can't just go against the Jarl's orders. He's the one who appointed me to you. That is the only exception."

Alodie narrowed his eyes at the Nord woman, inspecting her, seeing if she had anything to hide. He knew that the Jarl didn't trust him, but to send him with one of his guard just to watch him? Irileth must have said something strange about him to the Jarl. Either that or he was seriously considered a Thane, which he highly doubted.

Alodie looked towards Aerin. "Where's Mjoll?" he asked. Aerin's face darkened then as if he was angry or upset. Alodie found such an expression curious – he'd barely seen the small Imperial express anything besides doubt or cowardice.

"She went to Jorvaskar…" he said in almost a whisper, anger building in his voice. Alodie ignored Lydia as he passed her in order to hear Aerin more clearly.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

Aerin's eyes appeared like fire. "She knows nothing about them. My family… warned me about the Companions. She'll only find ruin there," he said. "I… tried to talk her out of it but she wouldn't listen – stubborn as ever. I just…" he paused, looking to the floor, "… don't want her to get hurt."

Alodie quickly grabbed Aerin's shoulder, grabbing his attention. "What do you mean _hurt_? Is she in danger?" he said. Aerin frowned, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"L-look – my family probably just has a grudge on the Companions for some reason. This is probably not even true," he started. He glanced up into the ceiling. "They told me that… the Circle are the beasts of the moon." He caught Alodie's eyes. "Werewolves."

Alodie released Aerin then, a small grin forming on his face. _Werewolves_? What, so did they suddenly exist in Skyrim along with the dragons too? And a beast as rare as a werewolf wouldn't preach about Nordic "honor" and "triumph." They would have been living a gigantic lie if they did.

Aerin saw Alodie's disbelief. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. I wonder why I even bothered," he said. Alodie ignored him, facing his new "Housecarl" in thought. Lydia gave him a wry smirk then, glad that the ghost stories were over now.

"I'm ready when you are," she said.

"Where's the Jarl?"

Lydia shrugged, standing up straight. "Out. He's with a portion of his army to scout out his hold for the Stormcloaks. He's gotten a report that the rebels were going to attack in a month," she said. Alodie cursed inside his head and began to walk down the hall, moving passed a few servants preparing a hot lunch for the few Thanes that stayed behind in the palace.

His stuff was already moved here and packed – all he had to do was take it and leave. The Jarl had told him that the journey up the steps were perilous – especially with winter being just around the corner. He wasn't provided with anything which he found a bit odd seeing how excited the middle-aged Nord was about the "Dragonborn's Return."

When he finished climbing down the stairs with both Lydia and Aerin in tow, he realized why.

The platoon of the same soldiers that came with him to the tower was standing in the front hall – eighteen heads popping up as he made his entrance. Aventis Avenicci frowned at his arrival – acting in the Jarl's stead while he was away.

"I want you rabble out of the palace. The Jarl told me that all of you are supposed to be at your stations," he said.

One Nord guard that Alodie recognized as the one who called him Dragonborn stepped forward. "We request to serve the Dragonborn in any way we can. We want to guard him as he makes his way to the mountain."

The steward was livid. "I will not have you disobeying the Jarl's orders. Return to your posts!"

Lydia walked forward then, placing a lazy hand on Avenicci's shoulder. "Calm down lettuce head, I'm the one who ordered them here," she said.

The steward turned his anger towards the Housecarl. "What is the meaning of this Lydia?" he asked. Alodie wanted to know the exact same thing so he bent closer.

"Jarl's orders. He doesn't want the Dragonborn to die on his way up," she said, pointing towards the ceiling. "Although… this _Dragonborn_ doesn't seem to want our help. Neither do you actually."

Alodie narrowed his eyes as he stepped forward. "I never asked for this. If we go with all of these people then we'll draw attention," he said. And attention was bad for him. He didn't even want to be going up this mountain. If he went alone, they would never know that he just turned the other way down the road. The Jarl was smart, that was for sure. He was forcing him to take the road up.

And he didn't even know the way. So even if he wanted to go, others would be needed.

Lydia smirked. "Not if we say we're simply patrolling the roads. Any attention we grab will only be in Ivarstead, the small village below the mountain. If we travel by night and rest by day, no one will suspect a thing."

Alodie doubted that. He crossed his arms in defiance and before he could say anything, Aerin spoke up. "It's… rather dangerous at night though… the trolls –"

"What's this milk-drinker saying? Cause all I hear is 'glub glub,'" Lydia mocked, her hand mimicking a mouth. Alodie frowned, walking closer to the men stationed before him. Most were once farmer's hands and herdsmen who were sent by their fathers to join the watch, others were docile looking and fragile shopkeeper's sons – it was amazing they even survived the dragon attack.

They would slow him down. He didn't have all day to be mucking around with carriages and horses. It was as if the Jarl was _trying_ to incapacitate him.

He shook his head once. "I can't take you lot," he said. "It would only slow me down."

The leader frowned. "I… understand. But you have to consider it. You are the only Dragonborn left. If you die, there's no hope."

Alodie smirked. "So, you think I can't protect myself?" He felt like laughing. Wasn't it him who just killed – or at least made the final blow – a _dragon_? And if something like a troll or a dragon came along the road, he couldn't just run with all of these people following and "protecting" him. What would be the point?

The leader blushed lightly in embarrassment while Lydia rolled her eyes. "Fine _princess_, send your escorts away. Be my guest."

Alodie narrowed his eyes. "You don't understand, I'll be much safer –"

"—alone?" Lydia responded. She stretched, her shined steel plate moving stiffly on her body. "And whose gonna bury you if you die all the way up a mountain? You need someone to watch your back, kid."

Alodie shook his head. "You—"

"None of it matters. I want all of you back at your posts this instant!" The steward interrupted. "Until Jarl Balgruuf comes back, your orders come directly from either me or Commander Caius. We barely have enough men as it is!"

"Oh, just shut up old man," Lydia remarked.

"I think there's some truth in what he says," Aerin said. Both Lydia and Alodie looked down to the Imperial. He flinched at their stares before continuing. "I mean… maybe not all of you."

"How about none of you," Alodie replied.

Lydia shook her head and looked as if she was going to laugh. "Fine – we'll come to an agreement," she began. "Half of these men. And no less."

"Nine of us…" the leader spoke, scratching his head. "That'll do… I guess." But they noticed that no one was willing to step back. Alodie sighed, shaking his head while Lydia rolled her eyes, wondering why these guards wanted to risk their lives for this Imperial.

She waved her hand. "Go on. Nine of you go back to your duties." Three saluted weakly before stepping back however no one else made a move.

The leader frowned. "Well… we all wanted to go… so…"

Avenicci bristled. "It's either nine of you or none of you," he said.

All of the guards nodded their heads, talking lowly amongst themselves. Before long, only nine guards remained including the leader of the platoon. The homely Nord smiled. "My name is Jor," he said. "We are ready to move out on your orders, Dragonborn."

Alodie made to open his mouth but Lydia stopped him. "And he's pleased about your commitment, Captain Jor," she said quickly. "But we will move out by tomorrow's light. We need at least a day to saddle the horses, don't you think?"

The Captain nodded. "Of course Housecarl. We will move out tomorrow morning at first light."

The nine saluted and left leaving Alodie speechless. Lydia turned around to give Alodie a triumphed eye, smirking. "So, my _Thane_, I guess we're leaving tomorrow," she said. The Housecarl began to walk away. "I'd go to the temple and say prayers before then."

* * *

Marcurio sat in the temple of Kynareth, bent down in front of a statue to the wind god. He smirked slightly shaking his head once before opening his eyes. "If that's what you want me to do…" An injured patient from the west tower groaned as he was led passed the main hall towards the sick room. He probably wouldn't be long.

Marcurio stretched, sighing, before standing up, prepared to go and see Alodie about this Dragonborn business.

He wondered if this was his father's supposed "fate" that he went on about as a child. It was by fate that he ran into Alodie before he learned about his innate talents. And maybe he was supposed to help him. Well, it would definitely cost him even more now! He couldn't simply be _underpaid_ for a job like this.

His thoughts were interrupted as a door swung open followed by a scuffle of feet, revealing the man of the hour. _And there he is now_, Marcurio thought, _Dragonborn_.

Alodie bowed his head quickly to a purple robed priest who gave him a quick bow back. Marcurio smirked at Alodie as he headed towards the plinth, ignoring the mage as he shoved past, and bended his knees down before the shrine. The mage smiled.

"Didn't know you to be a religious sort," Marcurio stated. Alodie pretended not to hear him as he prayed to the god of the sky – for that was the direction he was going in. The mage's mouth twitched slightly as a wave of bluish-purple encased the Imperial. It seemed as if Kyne heard him – and rather quickly at that. He really must have had the gods on his side, unlike him. His prayers were never answered, of course. He just pretended that they were.

Alodie opened his eyes and stared blankly at the lilac flowers beside the shrine. He stood up slowly and faced Marcurio who gave him a blank look.

He frowned. "Why are you, of all people, _here_?" he asked.

Marcurio shook his head once before smiling, crossing his arms. "I should be asking you that. After all, not many of our kind pay proper respects to the Nine."

"You mean the Eight?" Alodie replied.

Marcurio swallowed. "Yes… the _Eight_…"

Alodie shook his head in frustration. "Just… what do you want? Why are you bothering me?" Alodie asked. Marcurio spun around before slowly walking away, Alodie trailing him.

"You are rather rude. I liked you better when you were a mute," the mage said. He didn't bother thanking the priest who muttered prayers at him before exiting out the doors with Alodie trailing behind him like a small pup. Not many on the street knew Alodie's face as the Dragonborn's and Marcurio was pretty sure that the young Imperial was glad for that. He didn't want to become a hero now.

Alodie narrowed his eyes as he followed Marcurio down the steep steps past a few guards. Alodie quickly pulled up his hood before they could recognize him and faced Marcurio with a dark shadow. The mage sighed.

"You like to hide, don't you?" he said, smirking. Alodie didn't respond, tightening his cloak to combat the winds.

"Shadow is _apparently_ my best friend," he said half-jokingly. Marcurio took it as a full one however and started to ball up laughing, a few tears escaping his eyes.

"You know, I actually sort of like you – wry humor notwithstanding," he said.

Alodie rolled his eyes. "I never liked you."

Marcurio snorted. "Or course…"

The two were walking among the shops, not really sure as to where they were going. The afternoon sun was beaming harshly at them, causing Marcurio to wince his eyes at the rays. He cursed the changing weather and promised to learn a temperature changing spell in the future or maybe command the clouds to rain.

Alodie was unaffected with the cowl shielding his eyes from the sun though he was sweating due to the amount of furs he had padded underneath his cloak. He hadn't expected any heat at all with autumn running it's coarse.

Marcurio broke the silence as they glanced at a hunter's stall. "You know… why don't you tell everyone you're Dragonborn? I mean, I'm sure everyone wants to give you stuff and shower you with praise as if you were Talos reborn," he said.

He wasn't sure of Alodie's expression as he responded. "I don't want to make a name for myself," he said.

Marcurio smiled. "It's not your name exactly. It's what those old geezers in the mountain called you," he said. "And it won't hurt anyone except the dragons if you told all of Skyrim."

He could see Alodie smirk underneath his cowl. "You are rather naïve for a drunkard," he said. He took a few coins from his pocket and paid for a few bags of dried meat – probably for his journey. The Wood Elf thanked him for the custom and proceeded to talk to an uptight Redguard who was bad mouthing the "lower classes' industry" as he called it. Marcurio snorted. He definitely sounded a lot like his father.

The mage shrugged. "Innocence is a lie, they all say," he said. "The temples would say otherwise but I happen to disagree with the temple."

Alodie found this amusing. "_Disagree_? Then why were you praying in one? I find that at least a _little_ bit contradicting," he said. Marcurio's mouth flexed with indecision as it turned from a positive smirk to a polar scowl.

"I said I disagreed with the _temple_ not the gods," he corrected. Alodie led them up the steps again towards the never-dead tree, its leaves purple and half grey. He wondered briefly at their color before noticing Alodie's silence. They were heading towards the mead hall up the hill for some reason though Marcurio never asked why. The Dragonborn paused before the wooden double door, hesitating beside the handle.

"You'll follow me again, won't you?" he asked. Marcurio shook slightly, shifting his balance between his feet.

He smiled. "Of course I'm not staying here. These Nords hate me even more than the ones in Riften," he said. Alodie appeared disappointed though Marcurio secretly knew he was jumping for joy. He wondered briefly if Alodie was smart – bringing him to a mead hall, that is. That was the only qualities he shared with the Nords, his lust for drink.

The young Imperial opened the door to the smell of the warm fires, removing his cowl. Marcurio hurried silently behind him, shutting the door quickly.

The Companions were all seated having their supper. Vilkas sat beside Kodlak, swirling his ale slowly staring at his half eaten mutton chop. Otherwise, everyone was up in spirits with a mixture of voices echoing inside the room. Marcurio noticed Mjoll sitting beside a hunter who stared at them now with her cold eyes. Normally, he would've liked that in a woman, but he somehow felt disturbed by it.

Kodlak looked up to their new guests and smiled, his old eyes twinkling with understanding. The room continued on without knowledge of their guests, drinking to their hearts' content. Vilkas glared at Alodie while his brother, Farkas, was indifferent – returning to his supper. The room slowly grew silent, strangely enough, as they noticed Kodlak's attention being drawn towards the thief.

Alodie glanced towards Mjoll who gave him a confused eye. Kodlak smiled, motioning towards a chair he had left intentionally empty beside him. Farkas had wondered why he wasn't sitting in his normal place and the Harbinger hadn't told him why.

"Welcome to Jorrvaskr, Dragonborn," he began. "I've been waiting for you."

Alodie narrowed his eyes. He hadn't seen this old man as he headed towards Dragon's Reach yesterday morning so how did he know he was Dragonborn? Just hearing about him wouldn't have given him a picture in his mind.

He noticed that they were waiting for him, so he slowly took his seat beside the man – glaring at him. It was probably rude but he couldn't trust him. He noticed Mjoll a few seats away giving him a worried stare.

"_Dragonborn_?" Vilkas started, his silver eyes flickering with surprise. Farkas ignored his brother as he began eating again – the only one who did. "Are you _serious_?"

Alodie glanced towards the dark haired Nord and frowned. Marcurio took a nervous seat beside Alodie. It happened to be empty as well.

Kodlak sighed, beginning to eat again. Small talk soon flowed through the mead hall again, this time replaced with the word "Dragonborn." The Harbinger was watching the Dragonborn with precise care, noticing his Eyes of Fire and his expression of mistrust. He could understand why.

He saw Vilkas' disbelief. "You do not judge solely on appearances, Vilkas. I thought you already knew this?"

"I understand his suspicion, Kodlak," the hunter said. "Most would expect the Dragonborn to appear to be a bit more… impressive." Aela looked the Imperial over, ignoring the mage, and decided quickly that he was a milk-drinker. He would never be fit to join the Companions, unlike Mjoll the Lioness. And yet, the Harbinger was interested in him – maybe it was a good sign. He definitely didn't look disappointed.

Marcurio, meanwhile, hated being ignored but kept quiet, stealing a bit of ale from the table.

Kodlak groaned, staring at Alodie who was quickly growing uncomfortable. "It doesn't take a lot to _appear_ impressive, Aela," he said. "But to _become_ impressive takes more than you would ever want to pay."

Aela frown yet nodded her head at Kodlak's wisdom. Why was he always right?

Vilkas was still unimpressed along with Skjor who gave the Dragonborn a quick look then returned to his meal. This _Dragonborn_ wasn't what he expected – if he fought as well as he appeared then all of Nirn was doomed.

"Who are you boy?" Skjor asked.

Alodie frowned. "None of your business," he said.

Vilkas pounded the table, bending over to glare directly at the Dragonborn. "What _Dragonborn_ talks back to their elders?"

Kodlak raised a hand to calm the wolf. "Peace, Vilkas. Remember what anger brings you if used unwisely." The wolf's mouth twitched as he sat back in his seat, glaring at a wall. Farkas gave his smarter brother a small glance before looking towards Alodie.

The brawn shrugged. "He looks fine to me," he said. Vilkas rolled his eyes before smiling slightly, chewing on his cold mutton. He always tried to lighten the mood, Farkas.

Kodlak returned his attention to Alodie. "What brings you to Jorrvaskr, Dragonborn?" he asked. He turned his knowing eyes towards him as he smiled. Alodie thought this a bit creepy.

"Do I know you?" he asked. It was as if the man was looking upon a long lost friend or a dead brother rose from the dead.

The old man smiled. "In some ways, I do," he began. "Some nights, I dream of the mists of Sovngarde. In them, I see the face of the sun and his companion. Their eyes are bright. Twins, like the moons," he said. Alodie's face contorted in confusion. Was he mad? "Then, a dark dragon flies amongst the mists. He blocks the sun with his dark wings – an eclipse of death. Yet the sun always prevails into a new dawn."

Vilkas sighed, shaking his head. "Not another one of your 'dreams,' Kodlak," he said.

Kodlak turned his heavy eyes towards him. "Dreams can be interpreted, Vilkas. I interpret them as the will of the gods." Alodie narrowed his eyes. He remembered dreaming of a dark dragon himself. He wasn't alone?

"What is this… dark dragon?" he asked hesitantly. Kodlak's face grew dark, his next words chilling Alodie's bones.

"_Alduin_. The World-Eater," he said. "You've seen him, I'm sure. As we all have… in our dreams."

Alodie shook slightly. "What are you talking about, old man?" he asked.

Skjor narrowed his eyes. "Drop it Kodlak. They're only nightmares," he said. Aela remained silent as did the other companions. Marcurio was the only one divulging himself while Mjoll peered anxiously into Alodie's direction. Alodie stared back at her, his thoughts tumbling in confusion.

Kodlak sighed. "Maybe you're right, Skjor. Sometimes my hopes fill me with misunderstanding." He stood up, causing most of the companions to stare at him with confusion. Alodie stood up with him, not even bothering with the chair as it scooted back. Mjoll made to stand as well. Vilkas stood up while Farkas was pulled up along with him, dropping a leg of chicken. He glared at his brother who only stared forward. Kodlak simply walked away towards the yard, the companions' eyes following him. Aela stood then along with Skjor.

"Where are you going?" Aela asked.

Kodlak didn't even turn around as he responded. "I'm going to prove my 'misunderstanding' right."

* * *

Everyone was out in the yard as the sun set upon them. A few companions had skipped dinner to train and now stepped aside as they saw the Harbringer grab a two-handed dull sword from the racks. He held it for a second before turning to Farkas. The buff Nord was startled as he found himself grasping the blade.

Alodie and Mjoll trailed behind the group as they left.

"What are you doing?" she asked as they stepped outside.

Alodie shrugged. "I want you to come, Mjoll," he said. "And I came to see if you were up for it."

Mjoll narrowed her eyes. "I have a place here now. I can't go back to the Rift, remember?" she said. "You of all people should know that. I place duty before all else."

"And what duty is their leaving me to _crows_ who would rather push me off the mountain then help me up it?" he said, glancing towards Marcurio. He made up the rear of the group, trudging his feet slowly through the doorframe.

Mjoll rolled her eyes. "That's not true. You need to learn how to trust people," she said.

He laughed. "And look where that got you," he said. Her mouth grew a deep frown and he realized that he had said something wrong. Before he could apologize, Kodlak shoved a one-handed blade into his hand – its weight unbalanced. He looked up and saw the warrior's deep stare, reflecting the setting sun. He smiled before turning around.

"Farkas," he called. The Companion looked up from the blade.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"What are the terms?" he asked. Farkas shrugged, though he looked surprised. He was expecting either Vilkas or Aela to dual the young Imperial, not him. He was far too large to challenge such a tiny person but even though the Harbinger couldn't command, he would follow Kodlak into Oblivion. _Literally_.

"Whatever he wants," he said. "I don't want anything." Kodlak nodded his head, turning towards Alodie.

The young Imperial frowned. "Who said I was dueling _anyone_?" he asked. Kodlak remained silent, waiting for his response. Alodie sighed. _I'm going to make a fool out of myself…_ "If I win… Mjoll comes with me," he said.

Mjoll narrowed her eyes. "Wha—?"

"Agreed. She will become your shield-sister," he said. Mjoll appeared to grow rebellious but remained silent. She wasn't even sure if Alodie would win. She saw Farkas fighting Vilkas in the field when she delivered the sword the other day. Farkas was ahead of Vilkas in combat, though sometimes he used his brute strength more often than practicality. Someone that could take that much damage without flinching, though, was a force worth reckoning with.

Both Farkas and Alodie prepared before the dual. Alodie tried to grip the sword and find a perfect balance yet struggled. He was unfamiliar with a warrior's weapon; he was used to daggers and wizard's swords. Nordic steel was heavier then elven metal and even more unbalanced. Funny how he preferred a mer's blade to one of his own kind – even though Nordic.

Mjoll noticed Alodie's struggle and sighed. "You strike with one hand yet block with two," she said.

Alodie looked up, smirking. "So, you want to come with us?" he said.

Mjoll frowned. "No—you—of course not! It's just… it would be unfair if you ran in there unprepared," she said. Alodie rolled his eyes at her excuse before holding the blade with both hands, getting a better balance.

He stepped onto the far side of the field across from Farkas who was fixing on his breastplate, shoving a horned helm over his head. He gazed at his opponent worriedly. "You need armor?" he asked. The Companions surrounding them were getting into place, creating a circle around them.

Alodie shook his head. Farkas smiled. "You're like Aela then?" he proposed. Alodie shrugged. He didn't know why this Nord wanted to get into small talk before a battle like this. Vilkas stood behind Farkas, obviously upset while Kodlak – fully armored himself – unsheathed his bastard sword. He stabbed it into the ground.

"This dual is set between shield-brother Farkas and the Dragonborn. Let all gods and men witness this tourney," he said to the ground. He looked up. "I hope to prove the Dragonborn's worth and until either of them yield, I hope we will see the truth in my dreams."

Alodie could hear Vilkas mutter something but he was out of range. He noticed Marcurio off to his left leaning against a pillar while the bald headed Companion, Skjor he was called, looked towards him with both expectation and steadiness.

Everyone remained silent. Mjoll remembered her fight being a bit louder than this. Maybe it was because neither Farkas nor Alodie made a lot of noise to begin with. She was worried that Alodie would be beaten to a pummel, yet she told herself that it was his fault for coming here in the first place. What did he have to prove here? Kodlak's _dreams_? They were only dreams!

And yet, Alodie was also Dragonborn. The impossible was slowly becoming possible.

Kodlak smiled. "Begin."

Surprisingly, both Farkas and Alodie didn't start exchanging blows. They circled each other in the yard, sizing each other up. Alodie was worried. He was a rather big foe and he would normally take people like Farkas by the shadows. The only shadows here came from the mead hall.

He noticed the Nord's muscles flex as he looked prepared to strike, placing his right foot first onto the dry dirt. Farkas lunged at Alodie with his two handed sword, his weight bearing down towards Alodie. The young Imperial twisted away slightly though was surprised at the sudden shove then kick onto his torso.

He reeled back, momentarily stunned before realizing Farkas' double handed blade arcing towards his neck. He ducked, still dazed, then ducked again as Farkas made another strike for his head. Did he want to kill him? Was he that desperate? He didn't have time to think as he tried to plan a countermeasure to Farkas' brute strength.

If he caught Farkas' blade, it would be over. He would never be able to stop the force of something like _that_. He noticed, however, that Farkas was rather slow which meant that he would be able to escape the blows anyway. But that wouldn't make for a good fight.

As he avoided Farkas' strikes, he saw the many dull eyes that had already given up on him. They knew that he couldn't bring Farkas down – it was impossible. It made him wonder what this Kodlak was thinking.

He grunted as Farkas – realizing that Alodie was running away from his blows every time – tripped him as he made to avoid a low sweep from his blade. He was soon realizing that playing cat and mouse with Farkas would spell his end.

He got up, Farkas strangely not taking advantage of his prone form, and gripped his sword tighter. A sword he hasn't even used once. Farkas remained silent, frowning as he looked the Imperial over. "You have to take risks sometime," he taunted. Farkas lifted his bastard sword and began to charge, yelling out. It was as if a spark was set within the Companions, their attention was suddenly fixed onto the battle as if what had happened before had been a warm-up.

He'd been holding back, Alodie realized. He didn't feel as if it was out of mockery though. Farkas' strikes were quicker, more precise. He found himself having to block and yet when he did the force before him would keep pummeling down onto him. The crowd was growing slowly in favor of Farkas and in less of favor of him.

The face of Farkas' blade finally caught his face. He briefly saw black before tumbling to the ground again, this time he found it hard to even stand. Bruises and cuts lined his back, stomach and legs from the fury of the shield-brother. He heard a few companions booing, he heard someone call out, "Milk-drinker!" "We'd have no hope if you're the Dragonborn!" "Coward!"

As he slowly stood back up, he was growing more frustrated and irritated. At himself. At his failure. At his weakness. He could never have that sort of strength.

"Do you call?" Farkas asked. And yet… Farkas' face appeared worried. Was he worried of his red face? It was bruised and still ringing from the hit. Did he think he was angry at him? In a way, yes. It was hard not to feel oppressed. It was hard not to shout.

Alodie stood in defiance and went on the attack this time, surprising Farkas, causing him to step back. His furry of attacks were fast, he managed to hit Farkas a few times but he was a wall. Pure and simple. He couldn't break down a wall. His burst of strength didn't last.

He was knocked to the ground again yet this time he didn't want to get back up. His head was pounding, the figures around him swirling, their faces unrecognizable. He could see Mjoll standing beside the hunter, Aela, with her face full of worry. The bald headed man had come closer during the fight along with Marcurio whose face was an unknown blank.

But the face he felt the angriest at was Kodlak's.

He looked down at him with disappointment.

It was the same face he saw from Maro. The day he was arrested. He soon felt his fingernails scrapping at the dirt; he could feel a weed being pulled between his fingers. He began to stand again, though more haggard and with less energy. When he looked into Farkas' eyes, he saw the same expression.

The Nord was frowning. "You need to stop stra—"

"**Fus**!"

A sudden rip of energy tore through Farkas and the men and women – including Vilkas – behind him, causing them to tumble back like dominos – eyes wide. Alodie felt the rumble of his own Thu'um resonating into the air then finally dissipating into the evening sky. He hadn't even noticed himself shouting the word – out of anger, out of sadness, out of hate. Strangely, it had been his strongest. He noticed that most remained on the ground, some had crashed into the practice dummies and were trying to untangle themselves. Otherwise, everyone was silent – their taunts and scorns dissipating with the shout. Mjoll was glaring at Alodie while Kodlak's look of disappointment turned into one of praise.

Farkas was still on his back, staring up into the sky. Vilkas came to his side.

"Brother… are you—?"

"I yield." Alodie noticed a large grin on the Nord's face as he sat up, his innocent eyes looking into Alodie's tired ones. "I yield," he repeated. He looked towards the old man with his smile, laughing. "You knew this would happen all along, didn't you old man?"

Kodlak took his eyes off Alodie to nod at Farkas. "Yes." He took his blade out of the dirt, the dual finished. "Now you see. He has the gift of the Thu'um and the power to resist it."

Alodie now fully stood and was eyeing the Harbinger before looking towards Mjoll, half-smiling. He would normally not admit to it, but he truly did love winning. Even when he would have lost anyway.

Suddenly, it was as if he had gained some of the Companions' respect – some of their eyes holding the same amount of glisten the young guards had. He noticed Kodlak staring at him. "You did well," he said.

"That was uncalled for," Alodie responded – still angry. What this man did was taunt him to displaying his power – he didn't like being controlled like that. But still… Mjoll couldn't say no to him now.

Kodlak laughed. "I suppose it was but it proved my point. You are fit to be Dragonborn," he said.

"Why?" Alodie asked. "Why does this matter? Why bother?"

Kodlak was silent, pondering his answer. "Because, I worry that a power like this had been put into the wrong hands." He picked up Farkas' sword that had fallen to the ground. "A man who lusts for power, uses it, yet eventually loses sight of their true purpose. A man who has no need for power and scorns it, uses it, yet for the right purpose." He looked up. "I have faith in you, Alodie."

He doubted he could ever rise to such expectations. Yet, as the sun set and the Companions returned to their mead hall to drink to their hearts content, he wondered if he could survive this newly found power. He didn't want to use it before – but did he have no choice now?

Mjoll remained behind him. "I guess I'm coming with you," she said. "But only to High Hrothgar. I swear you are so stubborn sometimes, Alod. I wonder how you get yourself out of these messes."

They would leave tomorrow – prepared for the journey ahead – or not. As Mjoll led him towards the mead hall, he wondered, did he tell Kodlak his name? He didn't remember doing so.

He looked one last time at the mountain in the southeast before turning away towards the setting sun.

* * *

**Sorry for the delay! I've been rather busy lately and was hit by a slight wave of writer's block. Next chapter will be up sooner then this though, promise!**

**And as always, review please :)! Comment on how you think my story is going - good? Bad? I need to know!**

_Hinode~Dawn_


	19. The Red Dawn

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_"Battle reveals who a man really is. Remember that."_

Galmar Stone-Fist

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: The Red Dawn **

The sounds of battle were drawing closer.

He breathed in deeply, the cold night air was bitter yet warm on his face. He lived for battle. He thrived for it. He looked to his side at the blue-colored soldiers, the banner of a bear fluttering weakly in the wind. Tokar was leading the strike and following his General's orders.

_The Imperial army will pass though these mountains_, he thought restlessly. The two moons were hidden behind the mountains on both sides of the path creating no light for either the Imperials or Stormcloaks to see. Ulfric knew that. Yet that was why they choose the White Pass, why they were defending their rear at the ford. They would meet Tullius or wait for him at Gallows Rock.

Stormcloaks never _waited_.

General Tullius was smart, Tokar knew. He saw the hole in their defenses near the pass. Ulfric told them a week ago that he didn't want to threaten Whiterun by posting guards at the border. He realized his mistake now.

He was disappointed that Ralof couldn't be there to see to their victory. He went galloping off with a few soldiers to wait for the Dragonborn at Ivarstead a week ago. He had asked his friend how he would know what the Dragonborn even looked like and he had shrugged and said, "He will be the odd one, I'm sure."

Even now they had no idea as to who the Dragonborn was. He could be a spineless goat for all they knew. Tokar wished that Ralof had returned soon, maybe bringing this Dragonborn with him. They needed all the moral support they could get.

He shuddered as he heard the clopping of horses' hooves in heavy snow. He waved his arm once, signaling them to get into place beside the freezing river, peeking out from the trees.

From this distance, he could see that the army was moderately big. General Tullius –_milk-drinker_ – was nowhere to be found. He had hoped to kill him during the first strike but the spineless General placed his own men's lifes in danger before his. Tokar was pretty sure Ulfric wouldn't do that – even though he wasn't there at the moment.

They all rode horses. All of the milk-drinkers. Horses were not for war – at least in Skyrim they weren't. The stocky horses raised in Windhelm would never be able to run down the warhorses of the red legions – and they didn't need them. What use were horses anyway in the closed compact valleys of Skyrim? They couldn't run over men if they ran into rocks and trees as well.

A few men raised their bows, placing an arrow onto their strings. He held his hand steady, waiting for the signal across the river before waving his hand. His platoon along with over four hundred others shot their arrows into the sky towards the red legion downhill, getting out of the cover of the grey trees and into the cold rushing waters.

Tokar made a war cry as he heard the horn above him. It was as if the river had flooded, putting out a spreading forest fire – the Imperials scrambled with their horses as they were stabbed with the iron rain. Tokar shouted in glee as if he was the Dragonborn himself as he buried his axe into the closest Imperial, water and blood splashing into his face. His platoon was behind him but he didn't really notice as he berserked like a warrior Orc, yelling out Jarl Ulfric and Windhelm's name.

They were making steady progress until he suddenly realized they were totally outnumbered. The view from above the hill hadn't given them a clear sight of the road. He didn't care though, as long as he died with the honor. That was what made the Stormcloaks and the Imperials different. What cause were the Imperials fighting for? _Nothing_.

He slashed the head off a young Imperial solider then realized he was growing a bit tired. He glanced behind him and saw that their numbers were dwindling. His platoon had all fallen before him. He couldn't find the General.

He killed another Imperial. _So many_. How many more would replace the one he just cut down? The horses' hooves trampled the last of his platoon behind him. _How many more_?

He was growing weary. He didn't want to die. He told himself over and over though – he would die for… _Ulfric_. Ulfric Stormcloak.

For freedom.

He saw a brown haired Imperial on a chestnut horse. His face was filthy with blood and dirt. Tokar swung his axe yet his axe was too short - the shaft broken. The horse reared. He didn't see the coming darkness.

Then, the sounds of battle passed into Oblivion.

* * *

Lydia sniffed the air, her red nose twitching with hesitancy.

"Smoke," she said.

Alodie reared his horse up beside Lydia's dark one, glancing towards the fires in the mountains. A battle was taking place in the pass. He knew going this way was a bad idea.

He had stopped leading the thirteen when he came across the wide tracks of the Imperial army. He had wanted to go back through Riverwood. He wanted to go around. Yet, Lydia and Aerin wanted to press on.

It was tense between both Aerin and Mjoll he noticed. Mjoll spent most of her time closer to him on her white mare while Aerin would trail meekly beside the Whiterun guards. Marcurio would try and make small talk but he could tell the small Imperial didn't appreciate it.

He could feel Aerin's hot glare on the back of his head. It definitely made him feel uncomfortable. Aerin was opposing him just because he could. Why was he acting this way? He only came because he wanted to follow Mjoll, as always, yet he didn't seem as if he _wanted_ to. He wanted to talk to him, but he felt as if he would just make things worse.

"This is bad, my Thane," Lydia said. "Do you want to try and go around them?"

And then there was Lydia. She acted as if she was his "servant" and "bodyguard" yet the soldiers seemed to follow more of _her_ commands rather then his own. When they went to set up camp, Lydia would order someone to get wood. When she felt tired, she ordered them to rest. The night before, he had asked if they could go on a bit more, yet no one even listened to him as they set up camp anyway.

Other than giving orders to the guards, Lydia didn't say much of anything. The road was mostly quiet as they went along – oh, sure, Marcurio would try and crack a clever joke but no one really laughed. It was hard to laugh in these cold mountains where the threat of dragons was eminent.

He could tell that Mjoll was beside him even before he could see her. "We aren't a part of this war," she said. "We don't need to fear them."

Lydia snorted, raising her dark eyebrows. "Really?" She twisted towards Mjoll in her saddle. "I find that hard to believe. I'm sure that Ulfric Stormcloak or General Tullius wouldn't enjoy us trampling all over their battlegrounds." She turned towards the fires. "The Jarl told me to avoid all conflicts in order to protect the Dragonborn. And I'll do so."

"Then why did you insist on going _this _way? Why not through the southeastern pass?" she asked.

Lydia shrugged. "The Jarl told me to avoid the south. The Stormcloaks are raising an army down there."

"Whose side are you even on?" Mjoll asked. "The Jarl's or the Dragonborn's?"

"The Thane's," she responded quickly, taking up her reins. "And taking the path of known danger is taking the path of a fool." She led her horse into the forest, leaving the conversation. Mjoll glanced towards Alodie who was pondering his Housecarl's words. He didn't trust her.

"We go around then," he said as if his opinion didn't really matter. And it didn't.

He felt Mjoll come closer alongside him. "I don't trust her," she said, stating his thoughts. "She makes me uneasy…"

Alodie sighed, straightening in his saddle. "I don't care." He looked directly into her grey eyes. "Let the Jarls play their games. It means nothing to me."

"It should though!" She protested. Her white horse huffed. "The Jarls are fickle. And for good reason. They worry too much that their own soldiers are going to stab them in the back. The Civil War has torn Skyrim apart."

"As I said, it means nothing," he said. He could feel Aerin's stare and tried not to glance behind but it didn't really help. When he did look, he felt a wave of anger flowing from him to either his horse or himself. He frowned. "What is wrong with Aerin?" he asked.

Mjoll glanced behind herself, pretending to look towards the valley below. "He's mad at me," she said.

Alodie rolled his eyes. "He looks mad at _me_."

Mjoll glanced back again in order to get a better look before shaking her head, looking towards Alodie. "You're paranoid. Aerin doesn't have a reason to be mad at you." He doubted that. Aerin had been practically ripped away from his home because of him. If he held some sort of grudge based on that, he wouldn't be surprised.

They decided to cross a ford in the White River that cut rather close to the battleground. They could see the fires from the tower along with the shouting in the night. They always traveled at night and only rested when they needed to. Only Marcurio really complained.

Camping now, however, would not be wise.

Lydia paused when they came to the shore of the river and raised a hand – and for good reason. Bodies littered the ford, broken arrows and shields floated downstream towards the battle. Most were Imperials though the Stormcloaks littered the ground just as often.

An ambush.

Alodie could see through the tracks that the Imperials outnumbered the rebels. The deep hoof tracks in mud were abundant along with their blood. Across the river and up the mountain they could hear shouting. Alodie guessed that this road led behind the tower. And the Imperials wanted to circle around it just as much as they wanted to.

He looked down at Lydia as she jumped off her horse in order to observe a fallen Stormcloak – almost as if she was looking for someone. She stood up though as if relieved. "I want four scouts to circle the perimeter. If you find Stormcloaks or Imperials, report back and don't get caught."

Alodie reined beside Lydia. "I'll go," he said.

His Housecarl looked at him as if he was insane. "Want to end up like you did in Helgen then, huh? No, you stay here," she said. Alodie was angered by this since the whole reason why he was captured wasn't actually due to the Imperials mistaking him for a Stormcloak.

He paused momentarily before narrowing his eyes. "How did you know about Helgen?" he asked her. It was rather suspicious that she knew so much about him.

Lydia turned around, grabbing her horse's reins. "The Jarl talked to that Imperial soldier. He told him everything, how the Thalmor thought you were some rebel and imprisoned you. I, of course, find _that_ hard to believe."

_Yet I truly _am_ a rebel_, he thought. He was bizarrely still loyal to his old Empire even though it was in ruins because of him. He still felt that he should help scout the area since that happened to be his area of expertise.

"Fine, then I'll scout to the northwest – the safest path there could possibly be," he suggested, trying to persuade her. He highly doubted anything would be in that direction anyway. Her hawk like eyes looked over towards his, totally against it.

"If you get yourself killed, then it's all on me. Do you think they'll keep me alive if they learned that the Dragonborn was killed on my watch?" she asked.

What was he, a _child_? He was growing angry, his face slowly turning a bright shade of red. If he had any pride left at all, this _Housecarl_ was stepping all over it. Lydia treated him like a boy. What good could he be to the world if he got killed in the wilderness by a lone ravaging Stormcloak or Imperial anyway? The gods would have chosen the wrong person.

Lydia didn't leave it open for discussion as she ordered the four men to scout the area as she went back up the road to find suitable ground to set up temporary camp. He was left steaming beside the bloody river, the midnight moon rising behind him. He was about to follow until he noticed Aerin come beside him.

He was glaring deeply at him, the same stare he gave him along the road. Apparently, he saw his entire dispute with Lydia beside the river. Mjoll had trailed behind – ordered by _Lydia_ of course – in order to make sure they weren't being followed. She was coming up the rode slowly now, Aerin watching as she came up.

"You should have left her out," he muttered.

Alodie looked over his shoulder, down at the Imperial. "What?" he said— startled at his dark voice.

"You should have left Mjoll out of this," he repeated. He gripped his reins fiercely. "It's because of _you_ that she joined the Companions. It's because of _you_ that she's risking her life _again_. Maybe if you just left her _alone_ she wouldn't have to be in a situation like this. All she—all I ever wanted was for her to be happy." He lowered his head. "And now she isn't."

Alodie snorted. "You can't tell someone what to do. I didn't tell Mjoll to follow me. She didn't join the Companions because I told her to. If there is anything to blame, blame her honor. It's what got her into trouble in the first place," he said.

He noticed Aerin suddenly grow uncomfortable, his face red from anger. "You know _nothing_, Alodie. _Nothing_. You are a stranger to her and to me! Before I found her, she would have gotten herself killed. She was reckless. She _is_ reckless." He edged his horse closer to Alodie, his dark eyes cold with the winds. "And if she is hurt because of you, I _will_ never forgive you. If she becomes…" He paused. "…a _monster_…" He looked up. "I _will_ kill you."

They were empty words, coming from Aerin, yet he believed them. He wasn't used to such passion coming from Aerin; he was used to his meek attitude and shy manner. He hadn't known he was actually thinking about _this_ when glaring at him along the road.

Alodie's eyes glowed with fury. "She can protect herself, Aerin. If you've never believed in Mjoll…" He looked away from the small Imperial. "…then why do you follow her?" Although Alodie couldn't see the Imperial, he could tell that he was startled. Alodie edged his off-white horse forward, the snow kicking up from its hooves.

Lydia and the five remaining guards had set up a small shelter along with Whiterun's flag – the white stallion billowing in the wind. Mjoll bent over a few logs – struggling to get a fire started. Alodie sat down beside her, lighting the logs with his hand.

The warrior glared at him. "Thanks a _lot_. Took me at least _five_ _minutes_ to try and get this working," Mjoll said with extreme sarcasm.

Alodie ignored her. "Where's Marcurio? Doesn't he normally start the fire?" he asked.

Mjoll shrugged. "Out. I don't know what that mercenary is doing. He's always heading out alone in the forest whenever we stop," she said. She got herself more comfortable beside the fire, her armor placed aside near the bags. She wore furs that shielded herself from the cold winds. She rubbed her hands, blowing out a puff of misty air. "Where's Aerin?" she asked.

He paused, lowering his head. "Out," was all he said.

"Out? Out where?" she asked.

"Pondering," he replied.

Mjoll crossed her arms. "Pondering what?" she asked, getting annoyed. She knew when Alodie was trying to hide something. His answers would turn into one word sentences so she couldn't read anything from his answer. It was obvious.

"Pondering... alone," he replied.

No wait—two words.

She growled. "Fine. I'll just ask him mysel—"

"_No_," he interrupted, gazing into Mjoll's sharp eyes. She took a double take, blinking a few times. She couldn't believe it, but Alodie was actually _apprehensive_. Sure, he sometimes he _seemed_ worried, but it was more of an irritation that she felt. Not like this. "He just… needs time. By himself."

Mjoll narrowed her eyes. "What did you say to him?" she asked.

He shook his head, glancing towards Lydia as she was barking orders. "Nothing… he is worried about you though." He looked up into her face. "He _was_ angry at me. He thinks that I'm a 'bad influence' on you," he said, rolling his eyes. Mjoll remained silent at the comment. "It's like he… can't _trust_ you. He said you were reckless. That you'd get yourself killed because of me." He threw a dark stick into the artificial flames. "You need to talk to him."

Mjoll looked down to the ground, sighing. She knew this would be brought up someday. "I will… and I'll tell him not to blame you," she said. "I've… always wanted to see the world – Aerin thinks I can't handle it anymore. Not after what happened at Mzinchaleft."

She sat back slowly, gazing past the trees towards the White River. "It was about three years back. I was exploring the northern mountains, trying to find adventure wherever it took me. I heard about the Dwemer ruins that dotted around the area. The taverns, the people, told me that these ruins were different. Carriages would disappear into the night; there were strange mirages in the skies near some."

She paused, glancing in Alodie's direction. "I didn't believe him, but a mage told me that they were all connected. Underground '_pipes'_ he called them. All leading to one place." She laughed, shaking her head. "I was curious, _foolish_. I thought that I could solve the mystery. Instead, I was chopped up by one of their machines and left for dead. A sword does nothing to Dwemer metal – even Grimsever."

"Grimsever?" Alodie asked.

Mjoll looked over again. "My sword. Once my brother's sword. I was so… hurt. So lost. I forgot it as I tried to climb out of the ruins." She shook her head in self-deprecation. "I would have been dead if not for Aerin." She looked towards the road as a small amount of flurries hit her dark blond hair. "He found me and brought me back to Riften as I tried to heal my honor. I told myself that I would help no one trying to solve impossible mysteries. My place was in Riften… to help them."

Alodie lowered his head, looking down at his worn out boots.

"You're not in Riften anymore. You can't go back," he said.

She sighed. "Maybe I was never meant to. Maven would've destroyed Riften anyway. I am only one person – what could I have done to change things? I have no power." She looked up. "But you… I believe in you. And Aerin… needs to understand why."

They both remained silent as Alodie pondered her words. He couldn't stay in the Imperial City. He couldn't go back. Yet… he had no hope for what he left behind. No hope at all. He couldn't rely on someone else to stop Mortierre – he had to do it himself. Alone.

Always alone.

He was suddenly stirred from his thoughts as a soldier came running up to them, his face distraught. He came from the northern road from across the river – he could tell based on his wet boots and pants. He shivered as he ran towards Lydia.

"Housecarl! They're coming!" he yelled, causing the guards to stop setting up the camp. Lydia twisted around, frowning.

"Who?" she asked.

The guard caught his breath. "Soldiers," he said. "Stormcloaks."

* * *

They came at dawn.

Most were battle stained and weary, some carried the dead. But all were afraid.

Alodie breathed lightly as he looked over the side of a tree, glancing towards the line of soldiers that filed past. He had ordered the fire extinguished and for once his orders were followed. He told the guards to wait for the other three but the one guard told them that they couldn't wait. They were coming.

And what remained of the Stormcloak army was close to nothing. He estimated that only three hundred had survived the battle at the tower and now they were heading towards who knows where. Probably retreating. They couldn't escape past the border because they were blocked.

And yet, they had found them.

They moved slowly yet fast enough to gain ground. This army didn't want to get caught and slaughtered like pigs. They wanted reinforcements.

Alodie knew that the Stormcloaks would attack them. Even if they were Whiterun soldiers, why would they care? No one would know. He didn't want to have to deal with an army anyway. They would appear suspicious, they would look like spies. Why would a Whiterun platoon be this far away from the main city? He didn't want to risk it and his guards knew so. Even when Lydia didn't make to confirm it.

So, they were spread out along the side of the road to make sure they could not be found. He made sure that Mjoll and Lydia were close at hand. Marcurio was still nowhere to be found.

_The idiot_, he thought. _If he comes across the Stormcloaks, I'm not helping him._ He took a deep breath as one of the soldiers' horses came a bit too close to his position. Fortunately, he used the shadows of the early light well.

About half of the train passed him when there was a call of panic. On the opposite side of the trees, a blue colored soldier was pulling at something from the trees and the men around him were startled.

"An Imperial!" he shouted in anger.

Alodie closed his eyes slowly, shaking his head and rubbing his temple.

It was Aerin.

Aerin struggled in the Stormcloak's grasp and yelped when he was thrown to the ground. The soldier held the small Imperial down with his foot pointing a spear towards his back. "Think yah can spy on us huh, little milk-drinker? Why don't you taste steel?"

"Someone go and fetch Galmar!" one soldier yelled.

Alodie watched as they restrained the Imperial as the line stopped, a soldier riding ahead to this Galmar's position. _You fool!_ cursed Alodie. _You good for nothing fool!_ Now he needed to get him out of this mess.

He could tell who Galmar was. He was a big man – bigger than Farkas. His blond beard flowed down his chest and his face was scarred and worn from the many battles he probably had. He wore the skin and furs of a dead bear, its claws appearing to strike his shoulders. This bear's eyes were empty. Galmar's eyes, however, were cold and fierce as if staring into a world filled with mist. And now, he stared at Aerin pathetically, raising his eyebrows.

"What do you fools want?" he asked. "We need to move on before the Imperial dogs catch up to us."

The Stormcloak groaned along with Aerin. "We caught this spy along the forest's edge," he said. Aerin mumbled something but no one could hear. He could see someone from the corner of his eye move. He twisted his head slowly and saw Mjoll preparing to exit the forest. Alodie's eyes widened.

_No!_ But he couldn't think her away. She would do anything to save Aerin. He knew it to be so. Her honor always had to get her into trouble. Always.

He could hear this Galmar huff in expiration, shaking his head. "Then restrain him. Why are we making such a big fuss over this?"

"But… General…" the Stormcloak said. "He's a _spy_. Let one spy go then they're ready to scheme again. We can't leave him alive."

Galmar paused before snorting. "Look. I don't care, as long as we get the line moving again. I want to get out of here so that he can enjoy the warm fires of an inn again," he said. "Hjornskar is expecting this army at the camp. If any more of us fall then Ulfic's going to have my head." He laughed fondly as a Stormcloak readied an axe.

They were going to kill Aerin. He couldn't believe this. True, this was war. True, he made himself look suspicious – but what was Skyrim coming down to? Imperials didn't trust the random prisoner shoved at them – trying to kill him anyway – and Stormcloaks killed anyone that even _looked_ as if they could be spies. This war was destroying their "honor." What an ignorant concept.

And now, Mjoll was acting upon it.

"No!"

She rushed out of the road – angry, upset. Before they could swing the axe and kill Aerin, they glanced over their shoulders to the strange warrior that came running out of the forest. Alodie stood up then, suddenly afraid. What was she _doing_? She just got herself _killed_.

She waved her hands. "_Don't_! Just… he didn't—" She wasn't making sense. And they were growing uneasy. The man, Galmar, glared at her.

"Who's this?" he asked.

He could feel someone hold his shoulder and jumped, grabbing towards his knife. He paused as he saw Lydia's face though.

"Don't…" she whispered.

"I… don't know General," the Stormcloak muttered. He took the hilt of his sword into his hand and glared toward the Nord woman. Mjoll was breathing heavily the cold morning air and looked towards Aerin who was reeling in pain from the kick. She frowned, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Don't hurt him," she said. "He's not a spy."

"Not a spy?" the Stormcloak said. He laughed. "There is a saying if you haven't heard. Never trust a man after the red sun rises." Alodie glanced up towards the rising sun though it didn't appear red. He probably meant it figuratively.

Galmar appeared unfazed. "How many more are going to pop out of there?" he asked. "I'm not at liberty to stand around and wait."

"Let him go," Mjoll demanded. "He did nothing to you."

"Who's to say you won't go running to the Imperials about where we're headed?" the Stormcloak asked. Many seemed to agree, including Galmar who suddenly grew serious. This was war. And those that meddled in war without being prepared for the consequences would die. He didn't care about this Imperial and his friend. He just wanted to move on.

It was clear to Alodie that they were growing impatient. A few unsheathed their swords and were closing in on the Nord. Why were they doing this? Did they truly trust no one? He wanted to go after Mjoll but Lydia's hand stopped him. She couldn't order him around. By what authority did she have to do so? He turned to glare at her.

"Let go," he whispered.

He couldn't see her expression under the shadow he hid underneath. "No," she said. "I have my duty. Remember yours."

He remembered his duty. His promise. He promised that he would help Mjoll escape – no matter what.

"Surrender, and we might let you go after our battles have been won," Galmar said, holding the hilt of his sword.

Mjoll seemed conflicted, grasping at the hilt of her axe. "I am not an enemy of yours," she said. "I will not yield until Aerin is released.

Galmar narrowed his eyes, obviously growing impatient. "Then die."

Alodie ran out then, ignoring the pain Lydia gave him as he jumped away from her hand. He pushed the large bushes away from his face as he made his way to the rode where Mjoll waited – prepared to sacrifice herself for no reason. He didn't want another person he cared for to die. Again.

The soldiers had their swords out and made to strike at Mjoll who had taken out her battleaxe. She was reckless. A _fool_! Why was she risking her life for nothing? Aerin's was already forfeit.

The soldiers paused again as they met the Imperial boy's eyes – suddenly… afraid. Their horses backed up slightly as Alodie stood in front of Mjoll – her eyes widening.

"Alodie… you—"

"—stupid..."

Before they could get a good look at him, he shouted – the word forever on his lips. The sky seemed to shake, his vision blurred, and before the Stormcloaks could regain their balance, Alodie grabbed Aerin. He shoved him forcefully to his feet and began to run, pushing Mjoll with his free hand.

"Go!" he shouted, though not in a different tongue. He bounded into the forest where three hundred men could not tread at a time and tripped over rocks. He breathed heavily as he stood again, realizing that Mjoll was in toe. The three of them ran, and ran, and ran, until they were too tired to move.

He remembered running. He remembered running so hard that he couldn't stand.

_He believed he saw trees but all he saw was light. He felt the cold ground from underneath him, his arms unbound. He felt surprised yet alarmed by the fact._

The forest was tight, light wasn't found here.

_He wanted to run._

He remembered running. On hard and uneven ground. His pursuers like shadows. He had been a shadow, long ago. Or, at least it felt as if it had been long ago.

_They had to be close! He didn't want to be recaptured. Never. He didn't want to have to go through that again. To feel helpless . . . alone._

He saw Mjoll again, her face a comfort.

_But wasn't he alone now? Running blindly through this never ending forest as if he was being hunted down by Hircine himself didn't constitute as being alone? He has never felt so helpless … so lost … than ever. Does the freedom of the forest resolve him of any pain? Any guilt?_

He had wanted to die then…

* * *

He heard people. Many people.

He sat up, afraid of where he was and what had happened. Why was he free? Where had the Thalmor taken him? And why was it so… _cold_?

He found that asking himself these questions amounted to nothing.

It was a convoy of soldiers. He didn't know where he was or who these soldiers were but he suddenly felt afraid. That turning around to face his pursuers would be much better then facing this gang of warriors. He saw a powerful man leading the pack, his eyes like cold sapphires breaking underneath the wind.

It took him a moment to realize he was standing in front of him.

The king stared at him with empty eyes.

_Run_, his thoughts told him but his feet were frozen in place. The cold air brushed the nearly dead trees and the soldiers' march had ceased. Maybe they were trusting? He didn't know if they would save him or run him through.

The eyes of the king told him otherwise.

"Who are you?" the king asked. He wanted to say something; the soldiers behind the king grew worried, their weapons out.

"Is he a spy?"

"_Imperial_?"

"What does he want?"

"Silence!" went the king, looking over his shoulder. The soldiers' horses stirred under the power of his voice.

He suddenly felt something else. Something above him. Above the valley they were standing in. He was afraid to look up. However, a large cry caused him to stare directly at the shadows.

It had suddenly turned into chaos. Other soldiers started raining arrows onto them, the King reared his horse and the warriors underneath his command didn't know what to do.

A horn sounded.

He had to move then. He made a dash for the forest but something stopped him. He saw the red soldiers – Imperial soldiers. The ones that he had betrayed. _Why were they here? _The red legions had them surrounded – no escape. Ambushed. The soldiers in blood red came storming towards him with little compassion and he began to back up towards the more chaotic roadside.

Many of the King's soldier's had fallen. Some cried "To the border!" but no one listened for they knew such an action to be impossible. They were totally outnumbered and had no archers to back them up. He saw fireballs flashing across his vision and many screams and flames licked the battle field. He saw no sign of the King. Probably dead.

Then, he heard the thunder.

Hooves passed him by and he saw neither soldier nor warrior but a person – like himself. Whoever he was, he had gotten himself in a heap of trouble – like himself. Before he could see his face, the king had reappeared however his eyes had changed from sorrow to rage.

He had thought it to be a scream but it couldn't have been for the sound ripped him and a few others off their feet. The red coated soldiers screamed as they flew off into a chasm. The voice had flown him directly into a tree, his head snapping onto it. The flashes of light turned into darkness.

Then light.

* * *

The forest then gave way to a clearing near a waterfall overlooking the valley below. Alodie recognized it immediately and sighed, getting close to the edge. He could see Whiterun – a tiny speck off into the distance. They had traveled days just for it to become a speck.

Suddenly, he panicked.

He turned around, noticing that neither Mjoll nor Aerin had followed him. He twisted towards the other side, his cloak billowing in the fierce wind.

"Mjoll!" he called out – stupidly he might add. They might still be following him. He narrowed his eyes, afraid. "Aerin!" he shouted.

No response.

Should he go back into the forest? He didn't like the idea of going back into the darkness. He would just get himself lost again. For all he knew, he could be on the road to Whiterun again. He wasn't even _on_ a road.

Then, he saw them. The black birds.

The ravens cawed as they escaped from the trees, their song turning into a dirge. He smirked, remembering the strangely named brute in Riften. Who would sing a requiem for him? Certainly not these birds.

He felt the familiar whisper – a cold shiver washed over him as if someone had poured ice all over him. He heard the rumble. The screams. From animals? Imperials? Not wolves. Stormcloaks? Not bears.

Another bird soared from above but it was large and thin. He took a step closer to the edge but he didn't want to drop. The bird came closer and looked prepared to land beside him in the clearing.

The ravens were gone.

But... the red eyes. The dark wings...

Alduin.

* * *

**A short chapter this time but I thought "What a great place to stop!" :) (mwhahaha!) Thank you everyone who has been reviewing and favoriting so far! I wouldn't still be writing this without your lovely moral support! **

**Next chapter - Alduin? And Civil War :)**

_Hinode~Dawn_


	20. Wildfire

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

_"Eyes on the Prey, not the Horizon"_

―Farkas

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Wildfire**

Marcurio was wondering the forest as he normally did, breathing in the scented air, tasting death. He had felt the wind stir from within the grey forest and was worried. The others would have called him a fool but for once he was serious.

He wandered until the sun peaked from the horizon and decided to head back to the camp. Before he could though, he saw many birds screeching from within the evergreen trees. Their piercing calls caused him to hold his ears in pain as if they were tearing them off of his head.

"Shut up!" he shouted up. He would have shot a fireball at them but he remembered the last time he did that with a Khajiit assassin. He would not repeat the same mistake.

He had been practicing. When he left, he had silently gone off to study destruction magic. But still… he messed up. Every time. His father's wizards had always laughed at how he could never control his flames as if he was untamed wildfire. And that's what they called him. _Wildfire_.

He didn't want the others to think him flawed. How would he get his gold if he started practicing in front of them? He wouldn't have been worth to keep.

He would practice frost magic for the ice never harmed the dead trees. He froze rabbits, fawns, wolves… anything that got in the way. He didn't feel as if he was _controlling_ anything though. Just making a bigger mess.

He stopped conjuring his spells when the dark shadow appeared.

He heard people in the forest. They were running – he thought he recognized one of the forms. He was going to go take a look before one tripped the one behind slowing down beside her. When he saw Mjoll's pained face, he calmed slightly.

She looked up and growled. "_Now_ you show up," she said. Aerin had helped her to her feet and she appeared to have a slight limp. Alodie was nowhere to be found.

Aerin glared at him. "Where have you been?" he asked.

Marcurio looked upon them innocently, crossing his arms. "I've been through Oblivion and back, you?"

"This is no time for jokes!" Mjoll snapped, bending over in order to take deep breaths. She had seen the shadow silently fly above the tree tops and was worried. She took a deep breath before glancing around. "Where's Alodie?" she asked suddenly, horrified.

Aerin paused. "I… don't know. He was running so fast—"

"Did we go the wrong way?" she asked. Aerin narrowed his eyes in thought. He peered around him before his eyes caught the lone footprints to the south. Marcurio's eyes followed the small Imperial as he observed them.

"He went this way," he said.

"What is going on, by the way?" Marcurio asked belatedly. Mjoll sighed harshly, mostly from the stress of this entire ordeal. She hadn't known Alodie to be one to get lost in a forest. Maybe she was expecting way too much from him.

She led them through the forest, following the breaking of branches and snow. It was as if they were tracking a deer, Mjoll thought humorously. Except they were instead trying to find a friend. The three of them grew quiet as if they could try and hear Alodie's steps. Mjoll knew listening and seeing would be impossible. If Alodie wanted to hide, he would remain hidden.

They had lost their pursuers after they had crossed over a small stream. Most had been too shocked to even follow. She realized that what she did had been "stupid" as Alodie had said, but it had to be done. She swore to protect Aerin after he saved her life years ago. She would be scorned by the gods if she ignored the threat to his life.

She didn't regret anything yet Alodie thought her a fool. Again. She wondered how many times that had been? First when they were on the road to Riverwood and now. She cursed herself for her inability to do anything useful. He probably hated her now. She wouldn't be surprised if he ran away from them.

But, no.

She saw Marcurio stop out of the corner of her eye. She turned. "What is it?" she asked but his horrified face explained everything. She turned her head to where he looked and her jaw dropped.

Instead of Alodie they found a dark dragon. Like from Kodlak's dream.

She held her breath as she saw the beast move its jaw closer to something. That something, she noticed, was Alodie – frozen with fear. The monster sniffed him as if he was a meal, its red eyes looking Alodie's frozen form up and down but it made no moves to strike.

Alodie's face was pale as he avoided the eyes. He wanted to run again but he couldn't. The monster – Alduin, he remembered, was smiling – he could tell. It didn't show on his face but he was smiling. Smiling at the small creature beneath him.

"**Hiu pook do faas, Dovahkiin…" **Alduin said, chuckling slightly. The dark beast moved away from him – looking like he was smirking when he wasn't. "**Hiu dreh ni orin mindok fin Rotmulaag, dreh hiu?**"

She couldn't understand the beast words and she could see that Alodie didn't either. She slowly looked over to Marcurio who was just as frozen as Alodie. She knew that he wouldn't be any help.

The dark dragon laughed, moving away from Alodie. "**Zu lost staadnau 'dov' zehmah, Dovahkiin. Odahviing, Viinturuth, Ovpaazqeth, Qoraanrein, **_**Mirmulnir**_**…"** He scoffed at the last name – a name that Alodie recognized as the same dragon he had killed. He moved slightly at the name and wondered if this dragon wanted revenge.

Alduin laughed again. "**Mirmulnir lost mahfaeraaka aan mey. Ok dinok dreh ni krif Alduin." **He didn't appear angered and this frightened Alodie. He didn't appear hostile either and this confused him. Kodlak and Hadvar had said that he was supposed to kill dragons so why wasn't this one trying to kill him?

Alduin looked as if he was yawning, showing his large teeth. He was larger than Mirmulnir and gaunter. His eyes were noticeably brighter and his overall presence was as if he was a cloud covering the sun. The dragon wasn't interested in him, he noticed.

"**You head to the ancient men, do you not?"** he asked, finally in normal tongue. Alduin snorted out smoke, the thin wisps blowing into his face. "**They are deceitful beggars, Dovahkiin. You will learn nothing for they are ignorant of our ways. The ways of the dov are not of drem, peace. Emotion, happiness, anger, hate – all feed into the voice." **The dragon closed his bright eyes. "**You do not have the miin… the eyes… to see."**

Alodie moved his mouth once before closing it again. He had nothing to say. What could he say? It would be stupid to deny a dragon that was this close to him. And it could smell his fear. His anger. He didn't remember breathing at all.

"What…" he started – confused. "What… are you talking about?" he asked.

It was as if he was dreaming. Was he? This all felt real to him.

Alduin smiled. "**A soul does not give your body. Why do joore continue to postpone the inevitable? The dawn has already come and yet they still try to stop it. And now… **_**you**_**." **The dragon shook his head. "** You are not a dov. You would serve **_**me**_** if you were." **

"I… I am not—"

"**You cannot deny what you are." **Alduin stretched as if bored. "**I will give you a choice, Dovahkiin," **he said. "**Leave Keizaal – or Skyrim as you now call the north lands—and never return." **Alduin gazed straight into Alodie's eyes. "**Or I will consume you." **

_Leave_? The concept never came up to him. He assumed that staying in Skyrim would be for the best. But now? Now that he was Dragonborn? Should he run again?

He then noticed Mjoll, and Aerin, and Marcurio all staring at him from the forest's edge. Aerin gave him a nervous stare – no longer angry as he was just a few hours ago – and Marcurio gave him a miserable look. Yet… Mjoll. She looked angry. Frightened even. And he didn't know why. She didn't want him to go. Didn't want him to leave.

And yet… why didn't Alduin just kill him? Couldn't he just breathe his fire onto him and roast him alive? What was stopping such a large beast from swallowing him whole? Why even give him a choice?

He already knew his answer. "I'm not running again," he said. "I tried once. It didn't work."

The dragon was not pleased. It fixed its eyes behind, realizing that the young mortal was staring at something. He huffed, annoyed, yet reassured. Alodie found such calmness strange and unfamiliar – after all, he had just denied him. "**So be it." **Alduin sat up on his haunches and looked prepared to leave. "**The last time we spoke, you called me coward." **He appeared to smile again. "**This may in fact be true, but I am no fool. I know the rules of this unahzaal… this never-ending, game. I know how I should follow them. And I will send my pawns. One by one."** He lifted his wings slightly. "**Until we meet in Shor's realm, **_**Dovahkiin**_**."**

He spread his wings like twin black swords and flapped them like raven's wings. Alodie couldn't believe he had just denied his freedom. He could have said yes – he could have not been Dragonborn. Yet, he accepted. He wasn't sure what he was thinking. Was he angry at Alduin? He was definitely frightened by him.

As the dark dragon ascended, he saw in the corner of his eye Mjoll walking towards him. Her face was bright, brighter than any star in the sky. He didn't know why.

And he would never know why.

* * *

_The Empire has claimed victory_, General Tullius thought, _but not for long_.

He looked over the broken down Valtheim towers – ancient first era structures, abandoned from previous war efforts. He looked over one of the five towers, the walls erased with time, into the rushing waters of the White River. The bodies of men – both Stormcloak and Imperial alike – floated down the rushing waterfall, feet and arms disappearing down the white foam. He scowled.

"They're all in position, General Tullius," Legate Rikke said, holding up a scroll that had been her orders. He turned around and noticed how sleep deprived the Nord had become over the past week of their siege. He himself appeared to be eighty rather than fifty.

The General sighed. "They should have been in position an hour ago," he said, muttering his complaint to the sky.

The Legate looked up as well, wondering if he saw something. "Everything is in chaos, General. The soldiers are still trying to organize the dead and wounded," she said. "The eastern road is as secure as it's going to get. If the Stormcloaks push out from Gallow's Rock, then this war might as well be won."

The General glanced over his shoulder before beginning to walk down the steps with the Legate at his side, ready to hear orders. He, unfortunately, was too tired to give her anything creative.

"Add more men to the eastern roads. I don't care if they are little broken glass bottles of ale or cold steel metal blades, I want them out there. _Now_. No more excuses."

Rikke sighed, not believing how callous and cruel her General sounded. If the people had heard him say something like that, there would be riots in the streets. She believed him though and never really took his intimidations seriously. He was an old General – and a damn good one at that. If this war hadn't had the strength of General Tullius behind it, the rebels would have already won.

She paused as they passed a few Imperial soldiers hanging around near the lower tower. Tullius ordered them to their stations or _they_ would end up in the ravine as well. They had no hesitation to comply.

Rikke followed the General towards the main tower where the fires were already beginning to die down. A few lines of soldiers made their way down the road towards the eastern watch and saluted as Tullius walked by. He ignored them of course.

"We've lost too many," he began as he entered the tower, taking off his helm. "I'm not sure if this was the best move."

"They ambushed us at the towers General. You should have no worrie—"

"So, _now_ you're saying that I can 'help' the Jarl if these rebels actually _do_ something? And you're saying that I _don't_ have to wait around like a lame three legged dog being hit with rocks?"

Rikke frowned at the General's dispiritedness. "I am not saying that sir. What I am saying is that we were attacked first. The Jarl would understand."

The General didn't really believe in that statement. He looked up and appeared concentrated on a few maps of the general area. He sighed, going over the guerilla strikes that the rebels undertook, frowning at the amount of them. One at a garrison to the north, one to the west… ambushes left and right. He had to change up his game.

The Legate puzzled over a few scrolls that had come from the battlefield, frowning. "Ulfric didn't show up," she muttered in wonder, looking up from the table.

General Tullius rolled his eyes. "The man has no backbone. A leader who does not fight is a goat in bear's skin." He snorted. "I take that back. Ulfric Stormcloak is no _leader_. He is a rebel like the rest of them."

"I don't know… I have a feeling that something else might be going on here…" the Legate muttered.

General Tullius shifted. "What would Ulfric be doing besides sitting down on his mock High King's throne? He can't go forward without taking Whiterun. What else does he want?"

Rikke bent over the table pushing the scroll up to get a closer look. "I… might have an idea," she began. "Ulfric's power is with the people. If more people agree with his 'claimant' to the throne, then more people would be against _us_. He is cooking up something… something that has to do with the Dragonborn."

Tullius raised his eyebrows. "And why would Ulfric need to stay in Windhelm… exactly?"

The Legate sighed, releasing her hands from the table. "General… even you know that having a Dragonborn at your side could rally any number of people to your cause. Tiber Septim was Dragonborn and he created an Empire. What is to stop this one from doing the same?"

Rikke had a point, Tullius realized as he crossed his arms deeply in thought. Whatever Ulfric was planning wasn't in good taste, no doubt, and maybe the only way to combat a bear would to find the dragon. He had paid no mind to this Dragonborn business before mostly because he had a war to plan. That was until now. Now, the Dragonborn was an important piece of this puzzle.

He laughed causing Rikke to frown. The war was in the hands of an unknown stranger.

He didn't like it. One bit. In Cyrodiil, a man would rise in the ranks based on actions and words – _sometimes_, but unfortunately most of the time, money. He had been raised a farmhand's son in the upper Colovian and had gotten to the top by means of pure utter _luck_. Most people said it was through his "natural talent" and "experience" that he rose in rank.

They were all fools though.

When Legate Rikke saw that she had rendered their General silent, she smirked. "Have you gotten word from our little agent in Windhelm?" she asked. She pulled out a scroll and set it on the table while Tullius glared at her.

"You said you had no idea what Ulfric was doing," he said, eyeing the rolled up tube.

The Legate shook her head. "Would you listen to _my_ words or the words of ink and quill?"

General Tullius rolled his eyes as he opened the parchment, glancing over the regal opening and all of the "it has been an honors" and "it has been a pleasures" like he normally did. It had been translated from the code – the Oculatus enjoyed using the secret words. He sighed as he saw the contents, shaking his head.

"He wants a _crown_?" he said incredulously.

"Not just any crown," the Legate said. "The _Jagged_ Crown."

He could hear the capitalization of the words through her voice. He sighed, rolling the scroll back up, gaining a paper cut in the process. He cursed silently to himself, wiping the blood down his jerkin.

"He wants the High Queen's crown as well. Unless he has two heads I don't see him wearing both," he said. He snorted. "I doubt he even has _one_."

The Legate smirked at her General's snide jokes. "The Jagged Crown is considered a lost artifact here in Skyrim and there is a prophesy that the one who wears it shall rule the kingdoms of men." She shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe Ulfric is chasing after old wives tales of all things."

The General felt that agreeing with the Legate would be for the best though he said nothing. He could feel the small heartbeat in his finger from the cut he gained from this flimsy report. He didn't even know why he even bothered opening it.

He placed the scroll down and took out another parchment. The Legate bent over him. "What are you writing?" she asked.

"An order," he muttered as he finished the flourishing intro. "As we head west, we don't want our tails cut off now, don't we?" He began writing the first sentence. "And we've heard reports of dragon attacks up the mountains. Whatever Ulfric wants, we'll get it first." He stopped writing after finishing the paragraph and looked up, wondering how to word it correctly. "I'm sending an order to the Legionnaire – Hadvar. And his new platoon."

"Why? Hadvar has been quite useful during the war effort so far. Why send him away from the fighting?" Legate Rikke asked.

The General sighed. "If this crown is important for you people, then wouldn't the rallying cry underneath a sacred object give the rebels even more of an advantage? I've seen this before. Religious conviction has always played an important role. In all wars. This Crown would give others a reason to join the other side."

"Not if our side is just," Rikke said.

The General sighed. "Not if others do not believe it to be so."

"Sir…" The Legate paused and turned around to face the window. She sighed as she observed the tranquil countryside, the beginnings of a few flurries blanketing the few sentries they had posted. It was strange, for instead of a white crystal clear snowflake, she saw two grey shapes falling off into the distance. She wrinkled her nose in wonderment before she widened her eyes, realizing what it was.

"General, look off there!" she cried, pointing out the window.

General Tullius rolled his eyes, glancing out the window briefly. "What is it now?" he asked. "Crows? I hardly believe birds to be of any interest to our discussions Legate."

The Legate shook her head. "Those aren't crows, if you'll excuse me General." Her dark eyes narrowed. "Two of them. Dragons."

* * *

Lydia found a river along with the tracks. It was close to midday when she found two of the nine that had come with them. She had already found one dead, from what she wasn't entirely sure. She guessed it to be ice wraiths from the shards that poked out of the man's back.

The Jarl was going to kill her for this. Out of all the things he told her to do, it was to make sure Alodie's identity was kept silent. She couldn't have the Dragonborn shouting down bears now, could she?

She recognized the bear. Galmar. The fetcher. She had wanted to forget about the crude bear head wearing man but he seemed to pop out of nowhere from the trees. When the Dragonborn had left she watched as the Stormcloak's horses reared and shoot off down the hill. Many a man and woman were confused at the power and some started to yelp in fear towards the sky.

She saw Galmar order a platoon after them but it was too late. They had gone too far through the thick brush. The General cursed and led his men onward, strangely forgetting that the Dragonborn had just tried to shout him to death.

She was worried about that. The Stormcloaks knew this road better than she did most likely. Galmar knew that they would find him. And once they did, she was dead. She might as well prepare her burial can… if they'll even give her one.

She wandered into the forest after the soldiers had left and found the two Whiterun guards beneath a tree. The dead one had been further out beside a scavenging white fox. She climbed over a few rocks up and crossed another river… how many bloody rivers were there? She felt as if she was going south though… the direction she guessed the Dragonborn went in.

She paused when she felt the two behind her choke from fear. She turned around meeting the whites of four eyes. She huffed. "We have to keep going. No stopping that's an…"

"House Carl." He said. "Don't. Move," the red headed one muttered between teeth.

A growl. Teeth. When Lydia turned she met the eyes of an ancient monster of hircine. A werewolf. At first she couldn't believe it until the beast roared at her causing her along with her companions to shudder in fear. She saw another beast further off and her breath almost completely stopped.

It went into the attack.

She almost had no time to duck as the beast clawed where she had once been clearing the air. Her hands were shaking and she took her bastard sword as the two Whiterun guards ran away in fear. _The cowards_, she cursed. She pondered whether she should run as well but decided against it. She had lost the Dragonborn anyway. She might as well die with _honor._

She yelled out as the werewolf barraged her with attacks as she held up her shield in panic. The other one was beginning to close in and she swore that she would deal with this one before the other got a chance to strike.

She tried to get up but the beast was too strong. It sent her into chills as it screamed at her, begging her to forfeit her life. She was taught long ago however not to be afraid so as the werewolf prepared another barrage she got up, twisting her blade towards the beast's upper torso.

It was luck that caused the blade to meet its target. Maybe the beast was arrogant – maybe there was some humanity still left in the creature. But they were underestimating her. It howled causing her to freeze once again. She frowned as she saw the other werewolf bounding up the hill prepared to jump her…

…before a spear tore the beast apart.

She didn't even register what had happened but before the beast could even harm her it was already writhing on the ground half-dead. The other werewolf turned to its companion and appeared to yell but instead howled in agony.

She twisted and saw the figures of more than twenty people all armored in silver steel. It was a strange choice as silver was a weak metal but she notice that the silver spear that had pierced the werewolf seemed to _burn_ the creature's skin like hot wax. She shuddered once more.

A man stepped forward dressed in black furs similar to the werewolf's skin. He sniffed the air once before turning towards her.

"This is Silver Hand territory," he said with a loud booming voice. "Are you of the Companions?" he asked.

Lydia narrowed her eyes. "Silver Hand?" she began. "I have heard of no such thing."

"You are not of the Circle then. Are you not of Hircine's blood? Are you infected?" he asked. The others around him held their silver swords dangerously. "Speak!"

"I…"

"She's not," came a voice from beyond the forest.

Lydia turned and was relieved as she saw Alodie step out of the forest along with his companions. She hadn't realized but it had been Aerin who had spoken – the one who was usually silent. And now he stood before the Silver Hand as brave as any – stepping over the werewolf corpses as if they were nothing.

The fur cloaked man narrowed his eyes. "_You,_" he muttered. "Aerin Silver-Hand." He mocked a short bow. "Has your family decided to stop cowing away from the beasts of the night? Your uncle does miss you greatly."

Aerin narrowed his eyes. "My father never cowed away from anything. From anyone," he muttered. He clenched his fist tightly. "This woman is not a night stalker. I swear upon my shields."

"You are a _bastard,_" the furred man said. "You do not swear upon _shields_ that are not your own _Imperial._ And the gods judged your father as they judged your mother. As they judged this _beast_." He said pointing towards the now dead werewolf. The other was heaving in pain—still alive though soon to die.

Mjoll took a step forward, confused as to what was going on.

"Who are these jerks Aerin?" She glared at the man. "Silver-Hand… they sound familiar."

"And they should for we have been carrying out the will of Stendarr by erasing the undead from this world for longer than you've been alive, girl." He pointed his silver spear at Aerin. "He is the bastard mixed son of a coward. Ygri thought to _spare_ some of the werewolves. Show them _remorse_. And showing pity to Deadric beasts is of the greatest folly. He disgraced the Hands."

Aerin lowered his head, half ashamed half angered. "My father… he disgraced _no one. _My uncle killed him as if he had become a werewolf himself." He looked towards Mjoll. "I… I don't want to have anything to do with this. Not anymore…" He glared at Alodie who was just as confused. "I _told_ you. I told you that we should have stayed. Not run. Everything would have been… _normal_. The same. I would still be in Riften away from these… these _animals_… and safe." He looked back at the furred man. "Just… leave me alone. Please. I did nothing to you."

The furred man sighed shaking his head. "Your father's death was a pity – it didn't have to come to that. But it was necessary. Just as it necessary that you come back." He held out a hand. "The Silver Hand has succumbed to infighting. Most do not believe in your uncle. If you only named your father a betrayer to the Hands and relinquished your inheritance then no harm will come to you and your… _friends_," he said glaring at Lydia.

Mjoll narrowed her eyes. "Are you _serious_? We don't have time. And Aerin isn't giving up _anything _for you bastards." Alodie remained silent along with Marcurio who was strangely somber. As if this reminded him of something.

Lydia growled in anger. "_Enough_. We are leaving with or without this Aerin. I only need him," she said pointing at Alodie without mentioning _why_.

Alodie was angry at Aerin. But… he felt as if he could relate to him. His father was dead just like his was. And yet… maybe he should go with them… tie up loose ends.

Except he didn't look like he wanted to go anywhere with them.

"I…I can't… you…" he stuttered shaking his head. "This is wrong! And not true! My father was never…!" He looked to Mjoll for support but realized that he was all alone in this. This was family business – Mjoll knew nothing of the _Companions_ and their _Circle_. And he didn't want her to know. Not when it could possibly bring them apart.

The werewolf below them shuddered suddenly and yelled out as it transformed. Aerin's group took a step back as the werewolf was replaced with the form of a man bloodied and beaten. The man coughed blood and glared at the Silver Hand.

"_You killed her,"_ he yelled. He spat the blood at the Hand's feet. "Curse you _Skinner_ to Oblivion!"

The Skinner smirked. "You're on your way there _beast_," he said. He raised his spear to finish the man off but before he could a howl from off the ridge came from the distance. The Skinner cursed glaring at Aerin. "I would run deserter." He thrust with his spear killing the man who jumped up like a fish. He smirked. "The pack is here."

And then he left along with his entourage of silver armored soldiers as the moons above greeted them.

* * *

The next day, the group had somehow found itself again. As they waited along the main road for the lingering Whiterun soldiers, Aerin remained somber, contemplating. Mjoll had gone off the ridge in search of their old camp, treading lightly over the Stormcloak's tracks. Marcurio, ordered by Lydia, went to find food and supplies which only left Alodie, and Aerin to watch the horses.

Lydia was watching the ridge intently as if the Skinner would come back as Alodie watched the sun rise again and sighed deeply as a few snowflakes drifted onto his shoulders. He looked down at Aerin who had refused to look at anyone.

"They're still out there, aren't they?" Alodie asked.

Aerin shifted uncomfortably. "I have nothing to say to _you_." He huffed. "This is all your fault."

Alodie cringed slightly at his words yet ignored most of them as he sat down on the log beside him. Aerin glared at him. "_Look._ I just want some peace and quiet for once." He scooted slightly away. "I need—"

"—time?" Alodie looked off at the morning star of Azura with a sort of reverence. "I don't care what happened to you. That doesn't give you the right to blame others for what you have decided." He looked down. "You could have stayed if you had wanted to."

"I _couldn't _leave Mjoll. How many times—"

"I _know,"_ Alodie said, strangely angered. "You saved Mjoll. And then you threw your own burdens onto her."

Aerin grew red, bunching up his fist. "She _told _you?" He stood up as to gain even more distance away from him. "I didn't save Mjoll to save myself. I'm not selfish because I'm not _you_."

Suddenly, Alodie shot up which caused Aerin to quiver. He grabbed the small Imperial like a rag doll and shook him roughly, his golden eyes piercing him like his electric blade. They were cold eyes, deadly and solid like the werewolves'. They both remained silent as Alodie held him there against the tree looking as if prepared to snap his neck.

"You know _nothing_," he whispered harshly, shaking him. "You had a _choice._ You can run. And what can I do? I'm forced to do my duty because if I don't then everyone I know might as well be _dead._ And here you are calling me selfish and for what? What have I done?" His grip tightened. "_What_?"

Aerin's eyes looked away from the Dragonborn's, frightened. He knew Alodie was dangerous but he was never on the receiving end. He wondered what exactly went through this man's mind. And was afraid to find out.

"I—"

"You know what? Maybe you're right. I'm a selfish little bastard who doesn't care if you're thrown into a dragon's maw. Why bother when no matter what I do I can't save anyone anyway?" He glared at Aerin for a brief second before a wide smirk lit his face. He laughed slightly loosening his grip on him, shaking his head. He looked away back up to the star.

The silence grew among them and Aerin wasn't sure if he should say anything before he spoke again. "I killed an innocent man once. I told myself over and over again that I wasn't doing it to please a tyrant but to save Rue." He looked over his shoulder and caught Aerin scared eyes. "But that's selfish isn't it? The first thing they tell us to say in our oaths is to place duty before self. Before family." He smirked, looking away whist shaking his head. "' Upon my honor I do swear undying loyalty to the Emperor, Titus Mede II, and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great Empire. May those above judge me, and those below take me, if I fail in my duty.' And I was judged and taken for my selfishness. It could have been different. I could have ignored him."

He laughed once. "At least _then_ justice would've been served."

As the sun rose in the sky Aerin lowered his head, realizing that his anger was misplaced. He was making excuses – he had to blame _someone_. And he went for the stranger that he barely knew because he wanted to. Not for justice. Not for a _reason._ Just because.

He felt disgusted with himself after that.

When Alodie left, he glanced back seeing Mjoll coming back up the road...

…and disappeared into the trees.

* * *

**Hiu pook do faas, Dovahkiin… – **You smell of fear, Dragonborn**. **

**Hio dreh ni orin mindok fin Rotmulaag, dreh hiu? – **You do not even know the Words of Power, do you?

**Mirmulnir lost mahfaeraaka aan mey. Ok dinok dreh ni krif Alduin. – **Mirmulnir was always a fool. His death does not scare me.

* * *

**I am so sorry for the delay guys! I'm still alive (heh). All the normal excuses (school, writers block) plus the fact that I got Fallout: New Vegas (yep, haven't played it until now) for my birthday. And I love it :D! **

… **But all of them are **_**complete**_** distractions. I promise to get right back on this project though… I have a good idea where this is heading now. Promise ;) **

**Again, thanks for the encouragement. As for the quests I'm going to write about… I'm mostly doing the important ones. I most likely will be doing some Daedric quests (like sheogorath because I think it will be… **_**interesting**_**.) But quests that really have **_**no **_**impact on the main quest/Thieves Guild will most likely be side notes of someone else doing it (cause I mean, realistically, Alodie can't do **_**everything. **_**My character is not **_**that**_** godly…**_**) **_**like Ralof doing the Butcher quest or at least part of it for now. **

**Next chapter will **_**finally **_**be the mountain! I've been looking forward to that!**

**Till next time!**

_**Hinode~Dawn**_


	21. Seven Thousand

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

"_The Voice is worship; Follow the Inner path; Speak only in True Need."_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Seven Thousand**

"I want to go back," Mjoll said – eyes angered. "How could you just abandon him like that?"

They were on the road again with Lydia leading the eight guards plus Alodie and Marcurio. Aerin had disappeared into the night and Alodie hadn't said a single word ever since. They found it abnormal how he seemed so… unmotivated. Lydia had ignored Mjoll as she climbed onto her horse. Alodie was already prepared to go, his eagle like eyes watching the sides of the road.

Marcurio shrugged. "I'm not sure he wants to be with our little group. I mean, could yah blame him?"

"I'm not talking to you _mercenary_," Mjoll retorted, glaring at him. The merc grew frustrated.

"Gods, woman! Do even have a lick of humor left in you?" Marcurio remarked after Mjoll's slap of a comment. Mjoll pretended not to notice him.

"I want to go back. We're not done here," she repeated. Lydia sighed, glancing towards Alodie who didn't glance back.

"We don't have time to be looking for your little pal. We were already caught by the Stormcloaks. What if the Empire decides to come up that road next? What then? Should the Dragonborn shout at them too—"

"—I don't care about that. And I've never left anyone behind. No one. And Aerin isn't an exception."

Lydia raised her eyebrows. "Don't you suspect that maybe this Aerin doesn't want to come? I don't care if he wants to go back to his family. Until the Dragonborn reaches that mountain, I'm not walking in any other direction."

Mjoll snorted before turning to glare at Alodie whose back was still turned away from her. "Alodie, tell her that this is important." She paused before moving closer. "_Please_."

Instead of replying, Alodie paused before kicking his horse lightly and began heading up the road. Mjoll was speechless after that. "A-Alod—"

"We're moving on with or without you," Lydia said.

She felt as if she had been betrayed. She knew Alodie could be coldhearted at times but… this…. He was altogether ignoring her. It was as if he had something to do with this…

His face was stern underneath his cowl, his normally bright eyes dull with the morning light. He didn't even move to look at her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He didn't respond and only looked ahead. She grew angry. "You know, it would be nice if you actually responded to what I was saying." He glared towards her once before returning his attention back to the road. "I saw that. You think that being quiet can save you, huh? Where did Aerin go, Alodie?" She saw a bit of his mouth move deeper into a frown before it returned to its stoic nature. She groaned. "I said—"

"I don't know," he finally responded, his eyes watching the snow.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "You were with him weren't you?"

"I was with him. I saw him leave. And no, I don't know where he went." Behind them the group of soldiers followed but at a large distance so their words could not be heard. She glanced back before returning her glare to Alodie's guilty face.

"How could you not know? Why didn't you stop him?" she asked. Alodie remained silent at this and appeared to ponder his answer but only took a couple of seconds to respond.

"I didn't feel the need."

Mjoll pulled her horse out in front of his causing him to stop. He looked up finally and glared at Mjoll's tired face. She noticed how worn he appeared, though she wasn't surprised. They had been running throughout Skyrim for weeks after all.

Before she could yell, her face grew saddened. "I thought I could trust you Alodie," she said. "When we first met, I thought that you had it all together. Like you had traveled Tamriel and back and that I was simply a pest that was in your way. And I trusted you because you gave me no reason not to." She made eye contact with him. "I guess I wanted to believe that you were better than what you were."

Alodie remained silent, gripping his reins tightly as if considering going around. He ended up staying however. "And now you've scared Aerin away. And why? Because you're a prideful son of a bitch." She laughed. "And I thought you were better than _that_…" He looked up then, glaring dangerously at her.

"Aerin decided to leave on his own. I didn't tell him to run away."

"And yet he did. What does that look like to me Alodie?" She looked off towards the Throat of the World. "We are so close. It doesn't matter if we stop now and just go find him."

"Then go after him yourself," he began to move around and passed Mjoll nonchalantly. "I never said that you needed to stay."

She wasn't finished however. "Then why did you fight for me?" He stopped his horse and that was when she knew that she had him. "You can't go on without me, can't you?"

"… I didn't say that."

"What happened to the 'I thought you wanted to come Mjoll'? Huh? Where did that Alodie go?" she taunted. Alodie turned around sharply, his lips pursed sharply together like a bird's. He didn't like being wrong she realized. And now he was finding something wrong with his own vows. After all, she didn't want to have come out here for nothing.

She waited for him to say something as he appeared to gather his thoughts.

"I… agree that I… may have made a… _mistake_…" he began. He paused as he looked around the forest as if looking for answers. "I—"

"And you ran away – once." She looked off towards the towering mountains above them to avoid his wandering eyes. "I always wondered Alodie – did you really have a choice? You told me about your sister once. You were a bit drunk but still… you said that the Pentius Oculatus—"

Alodie's eyes widened. He bent over his saddle, closer to Mjoll, surprising her at his sudden movements. His stance seemed threatening yet also… afraid.

"Who… don't tell me I—" He cursed before noticing that they were catching up behind him. He reared his horse in order to go faster along so that he could speak to Mjoll privately still. "Whatever I told you… I never meant a word of it."

"You said you killed her," Mjoll said, following, looking deeply into Alodie's confused eyes. "I just don't think you have the right to judge Aerin on running away when it's obvious that's what you are doing to me right now. We've known each other for almost two months now and I sort of consider you a…" She paused. "… friend." She smiled slightly. "Maybe not Marcurio though… but most definitely you. I just… want to know. The truth."

Alodie stopped his horse as the flurries above them started to gain force along with the wind. His sad eyes drifted towards the mountain that was most likely the anchor of the world and wondered. _Friends? _He had a friend – once. She decided to be brainwashed by a psychopath, though. And his sister… the other soldiers he had small friendships with… they were all gone. And now he was beginning to lose someone else.

He looked back at her in bitterness… before bending over towards her.

She glared at him. "What are you—?"

It was a light kiss, in truth.

He didn't bother looking to see how Mjoll was reacting—or even how he was reacting—but it strangely seemed… right. Yet wrong. He didn't know… why he did it. They had just been yelling at each other after all. But friends? Maybe… that was all they were after all.

Or… maybe...

"The truth…" He paused, leaning back to look deeply into confused eyes. "This is a journey for me alone." He looked down towards the broken leaves mixed with snow before kicking his stirrups, leaving Mjoll behind.

The group behind them had finally caught up. For some reason, a tiny bit of moisture found its way into the corner of Mjoll's eyes. She shook her head once before turning her horse. The animal whinnied fiercely as if it was going to be whipped into Oblivion beginning its long decent down the large hill. The guards parted before Mjoll like a confused herd and glanced back at their leader with confusion. Alodie didn't pay them any mind as he continued up.

_Friends_, he figured.

But… he wasn't entirely sure of that.

* * *

Ralof remembered this inn from Ivarstead. He remembered the wench and the suspicious inn keeper along with the strange abandoned ruins. He did notice some strange changes to the scenery in the small town like freshly grown carrots, preparing for the winter to come, or the freshly burnt building standing off to the side. The inn keeper had told him that it happened last week about a day before he arrived. In fact, a few days ago, the arsonist wanted to finish the job. He wasn't expecting anyone wanting to burn an already burnt down house with that crazed old Nord named Narfi, but there were always crazy louts about Skyrim. The Nord sighed before moving onto another customer, ignoring the stranger.

Ralof had decided not to wear his armor in fear that the Dragonborn would shy away from him. And there were a lot of people here including Imperials. Indeed, the call from the Greybeards had stirred the people of Skyrim to the Throat of the World in hopes that maybe they would meet the Dragonborn. Either that or they wanted to see if they were the one after all.

He found it hard to keep his room without dangerous looks. Most slept in the barn because there was no more space and he had already claimed the best. He would never give it up though, not until he found him.

After hearing two farmers squabbling over who should go deliver the offering of food to the Greybeards this time, the wooden door to the inn opened quietly. The winter winds almost blew the candles out as a man stepped inside. He was alone and had a long elvish like blade – his face masked by a cowl.

He was followed by a woman who seemed to take everyone as an enemy. She held her hilt as if it had been her newborn child and stepped in front of the man with the sort of viciousness he would find in a goblin queen. Ralof pretended not to notice them through his pilgrim disguise, pulling his hood closer to his face as if shielding himself from the cold.

He had found him.

The rest of the patrons were either too drunk or boisterous to notice the new stranger and continued to loaf around in their mead. The wench seemed to eye the stranger up, however, and was already making offerings to him. The Nord warrior chased her away while the man remained silent, taking a seat at the bar a few feet away from him.

He almost dropped his mug when he took off his cloak.

It was that boy – the Imperial they found off the side of the road. Ralof was surprised he even managed to survive the dragon's attack. And now here he was, visiting the Throat of the World.

It was odd. The warrior was so terrible at pretending he _wasn't_ important. Word had spread and already there were tales of an Imperial who was said to have a voice louder than Ulfric's and who could slay dragons just as well. The only people that could have come close to that description were farmers and their sons or daughters. He wouldn't have been surprised if this was the Dragonborn.

So, he stood up and made his way beside him. He sat in the empty stool near him and proceeded to drain his mug. _First thing's first_, he thought, _get rid of that warrior wench_.

"Fine day to be visiting the mountain," he said quietly over the roar of some load mouthed Nordic barbarian singing about the witch from Markarth. "So, what's your story?"

The dark haired man turned towards him slightly while the warrior wench beside him narrowed her eyes. She gripped her hilt even tighter and stood.

"Who are you and what's your business?" she asked in a rush.

The man held up a hand. "Not now," was all he said. She looked at him with suspicion.

"We have to go now. We have no time to be lollygagging around here," she said. The warrior looked at Ralof and sniffed as if he had some overhanging odor. "There are too many rats."

Ralof only remained silent before he decided to finally reveal himself. He pulled off his hood and gave a tap on his axe hilt. The man lowered his head slightly as he recognized him before grabbing his own hilt.

"Easy," Ralof said quickly. "We have a few things to be discussing, Dragonborn."

* * *

"Dragonborn?" Alodie asked hastily.

Ralof and Alodie had made their way into the attic rooms – the stink of dust and small spiders filled the room. Alodie was afraid that Lydia would give him away so he had asked her to leave. He remembered the Stormcloak from when he had been captured – he found his self-deprecation annoying at times yet he always seemed to give off a friendly vibe. And now was no exception.

"Yes," Ralof said. "You wouldn't happen to be him, would you?"

Alodie pondered before giving an answer. "No," was all he said. "Of course not." Ralof appeared disappointed and yet he didn't look like he would be giving up anytime soon.

"You were there at Helgen," he started. "You saw the beast that came from the darkness. You know how dangerous the dragons are." He leaned against the awkward wall and placed his hands in his robe pockets. "Don't lie to me. My sister might be able to catch me in a lie but I can tell when someone is hiding something just as well. You're Dragonborn. Why else would you be here?"

"To pray," Alodie responded.

Ralof laughed once, a joyful yet mocking sound that caused Alodie to grind his teeth. The Stormcloak opened his eyes as he swiped away a stray snowflake that floated down from the broken roof.

"I didn't figure you the religious type. Remember while we were on that carriage ride to Oblivion? That horse thief muttered to the Eight like a coward while I prayed to Talos – the forgotten God. You prayed to no one." He looked down towards the trapdoor. "She's from Whiterun isn't she? And you both looked as if you traveled for miles without stopping." He looked back up again, blowing a bit of his yellow hair from his face. "So, what are you doing here?"

Alodie knew he was trapped. Ralof appeared to be dull witted and brawny on the outside but he was quick on his feet for a soldier. He had underestimated him.

Breathing in deeply, he sighed before getting closer to the soldier. The man stood almost a foot over him but that still didn't make Alodie appear any less dangerous.

He paused. "What do you want?" he asked.

Ralof unexpectantly flashed a smile. He held out one hand as he pulled out an object from inside his robes. The dull axe shone with importance, an insignia of a roaring bear on its hilt. Along with it was a small parchment with a few words written down. Alodie glanced down at the small axe in confusion.

"Jarl Ulfric wishes that you would accept his axe along with his invitation to the Palace of Kings to feast as a Thane of Windhelm." Alodie raised his eyebrows slightly. Hadvar had warned him of this, _"Eventually, both the Empire and the Stormcloaks will be offering a place in this war for you."_

It has started. He couldn't avoid this stupid war any longer. He was faced with a decision. Right here and now. He told himself over and over that he would worry about it the next day. Yet they had already beaten him to it not a few weeks after he learned of his strange talents.

He swallowed tightly as he moved his mouth to form words – any words. "I—I don't think—"

Ralof frowned. "The Imperials have tried to kill you just for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Don't you see? We can do this if you join us. Pledge to Ulfric's name and be rid of the Imperials from Skyrim once and for all."

He had pledged an oath once in Mede's name. He had already broken it more than enough times. Would joining the Stormcloaks be any different? How could he trust himself with any sort of responsibility anymore? He wasn't sure.

He was worried. Worried for Mjoll. For Aerin. Maybe they would have known what to say. What he should do. He knew nothing about the Stormcloaks other that they were rebels to the Empire. In truth, he wasn't ready to pick a side. Not yet.

He shook his head slowly. "I don't…I don't want to _pledge_ to anyone. You may think I don't believe in anything." He glanced up, his eyes solid. "But I do. And a pointless Civil War amounts to nothing when compared to what I could face up that mountain someday." He looked up, the mountain misty with clouds and fog. He took the note. "Yes, I am Dragonborn. But, you can tell _Ulfric_ that he's asked for help at the wrong time."

He gave Ralof a small pat on the shoulder, the soldier's expression wide yet fierce. He looked angry but Alodie wasn't afraid of him. He faced a dragon and lived to tell the tale. What could this Nord possibly do to him?

"Is that a no?" Ralof asked.

Before Alodie left, he turned to face the soldier. "I… don't know. But, I'll come and see this Ulfric." He bent over to unlatch the attic's hatch. "When I'm ready."

* * *

The steps were icy. Snow drifted down slowly though in abundance and no one stood behind him. The night was growing along with the two moons that had once been completely shady.

After sneaking out after mostly everyone had fallen asleep in the barn, he had stepped over the many bodies of the Whiterun soldiers. Most snored so it was rather easy to sneak by without raising alarm. Except for one.

Outside, he heard curses.

"Damnit! That's not right." There was a small yet powerful burst from a spell then another curse, the bluish light dissipating. He saw Marcurio glaring towards the midnight sky, moving the snowflakes with his small hands as if he was about to write a novel. Alodie narrowed his eyes as he saw him, realizing he wouldn't be able to go through with his plan after all.

After meeting with Ralof and deciding to pay a visit to Ulfric another time, Lydia had spoken to him about the mountain. He didn't want anyone to go with him yet Lydia and the guards had insisted – they should follow him.

That was why he was leaving without them knowing – he didn't want them to follow him anymore.

And now the idiotic mage was in his way.

"So, that was why you disappeared all those times," Alodie began.

Marcurio jumped as he began casting a lightning spell causing him to fry his other hand. He yelped, waving his hand quickly towards the cold winds so that it could cool off. He turned around and glared at him.

"You," he started. "And why are you up at this time of night?"

Alodie raised his eyebrows. "I was about to ask you the same."

The wizard frowned. "I'm doing nothing!" Marcurio insisted. "Nothing at all… just casting a few spell—"

He was surprised as Alodie began to move on past him, his eyes set towards the steps. He saw many lights along the path up to High Hrothgar – many pilgrims were still making a climb up. The mountain was populated with so many people all but near the mist that covered the top. He would have called a sight like that "magical" however he wasn't quite in the mood to be observing priests and their lamps.

Marcurio followed him. "By the way… where are you going?" Alodie didn't respond. "You wouldn't be happening to be… going up _now_, would you?" Alodie continued on past the inn towards the main road. "I mean… I don't mind it at all just as long as I come with you. After all you are my money just as how I'm your bolt of lightning if you know what I—"

Before he could utter another word Alodie stopped and turned.

"Then you might as well give me a refund," he said.

Marcurio, surprised, took a step back. "W-what? Are you kidding?" He glared at Alodie's open hand. "Well… actually—"

Alodie realized then that Marcurio most likely spent all of it in the random inns they've plundered the last week.

He sighed deeply, before laughing quickly. "Just… forget it. Go back to Riften or wherever it is that you go. I just… don't have time for jokes now."

"I saw you, you know." Alodie hesitated at those words and turned around. Marcurio appeared disappointed yet somber at the same time, walking a few extra steps in the deep snow. He was surprised. Marcurio was never a serious sort—he was always the one cracking snide jokes behind Lydia or Mjoll's back. Maybe his too. And now, instead of cowardice, he saw assurance.

On the mountain, the winds were stronger than ever and a gust then picked up and blew directly into Alodie's face.

"What are you—?"

"I was worried that you didn't have any heart whatsoever left in you but I realized that with you and Mjoll… and Aerin… reminded you of something. It reminded me of something, that's for sure." He sighed, shaking his head, leaning against a dead burnt down tree. "I may be a women seeker now but I used to have eyes for one girl. My mother."

He smiled. "She was always there when my father went a bit too far in my punishments. And that was often. She would tell me that, someday, once all the wars were over and Tamriel was together again, that we'd move to the Isles. So, I decided to leave. Once I turned eighteen, I spirited away and never returned.

"And I was stupid. Do you know why? I have no idea whether my mother's alright now. I have no idea. Because I ran away without making sure."

Alodie frowned, keeping Marcurio's eyes within his. He knew that he was right but what could he do? He had to climb the mountain with or without Mjoll. But now… he had a duty he didn't want to mess up again.

He took a step forward, opening his mouth. "Keep the money," he said. "And find her."

Marcurio shook his head once, smiling brighter.

"Don't make me wait too long...I get bored very easily."

* * *

"_Before the birth of men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus. Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs for the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land. Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus; the Dragons presided over the crawling masses. Men were weak then, and had no Voice. The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times; unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices. But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts. Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man. Together they taught Men to use the Voice._

"_Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue._

"_Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world; proving for all that their Voice too was strong; although their sacrifices were many-fold. With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice whilst the Dragons withdrew from this World. The Tongues at Red Mountain went away humble. Jurgen Windcaller began His Seven Year Meditation to understand how Strong Voices could fail. _

"_Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned. _

"_The 17 disputants could not shout Him down; Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the World. For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name; Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar; They blessed and named him Dovahkiin._

"_The Voice is worship; Follow the Inner path; Speak only in True Need."_

Was what he read as he climbed the many steps. He wasn't exactly sure if it was seven thousand though it sure felt like it. He passed many priests heading down the mountain as the sun was rising above the mist, the night eclipsing as he was halfway up. To him, the plaques were a sign to rest and so he did so.

He sat down, ignoring the cold, beside a plaque that began with someone named Jurgen. He wasn't exactly sure on the history of the mountain but he would probably be given a history lesson by the Greybeards. He hadn't realized it, but beside him was an old woman praying holding a small child. He wondered why anyone would bring a baby up the mountain but before he could gather those thoughts, she looked up.

"Did you hear the call as well?" she asked.

Alodie sat back in surprise.

"Well… yes, I did," he responded.

The old woman nodded her head. "I'm waiting for the Dragonborn to come. My daughter went to Sovngarde. A Stormcloak. She was always reckless." She laughed once. "But leaving her child… her son… I can't forgive her for that."

"I…I'm sorry," Alodie said. He didn't know what else to say.

He continued along after his meeting with the old women, wondering if he should have revealed himself to her. However, he was too focused on getting above the mists and remembered to take careful steps on the icy stone. Before he even noticed otherwise, a grey towering peek met him through the pounding snow flurries. After half a day of climbing the stairs, he had found High Hrothgar. And it definitely lived up to its name.

He was rather sure that _three_ dragons wouldn't be able to stand above the temple. He pulled his furs tighter across his body as he made his way towards one of the double doors. He passed many different offerings near the front pillar of the temple. Piled high were numerous gems and food to last a lifetime. He found it odd how most of it was rotting away as if whoever lived inside didn't even need it. He took slower steps as he came to the doors inscribed with the dragon language he had seen before. He took the frozen iron handle and tugged fiercely a few times before it became loose.

The door creaked open, the snow beginning to pile up within. He quickly walked inside and closed the heavy door so the snow would stop building up and pulled off his hood, the ice falling off him like an avalanche. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust before he saw what lay within.

High Hrothgar was hollow and grey yet warm. The ancient stones were radiating warmth as if the entire place sat underneath a volcano, however, above snow drifted in through windows and cracks as if combating it. His breath was still visible as he walked slowly towards the center of the room which was brightly lit from above. So far, none of the Greybeards had shown their faces.

He walked over to one of the grey pillars that stood near the front of the room. He touched the stone carefully, the pillar radiating heat. He placed his fingers over the raised letters of the dragon's language and wondered what it said. _Probably just "Welcome_," he thought wryly.

"So, a Dragonborn appears at this moment in the turning of the age."

He quickly looked behind his shoulder, reflexively grabbing his sword hilt, surprised. A figure stood by the stairs as grey as the temple. He was an elderly man of normal stature with a long beard as they were most likely named after. He released his hand from his hilt quickly as soon as he realized who it was, however kept himself on guard.

The elderly man took slow steps towards him and three other figures soon became apparent from the darkness. The three others were silent and looked towards him with careful grey eyes.

"Have you come to answer the call?"

Alodie remained silent for a minute before nodding once, slowly, and that seemed enough for them. The Greybeard smiled slightly before he walked in between the three of his brothers. They didn't even look up as he passed them.

"We shall see if you truly have the gift," the Greybeard started. "Show us. Let us taste of your voice." Alodie raised his eyebrows. Here? _Now_? He was worried that he could severely harm these elderly men—after all, they were only a little more than sticks.

The old man seemed to sense his hesitation. "Have no fear. We are trained to resist anything the Voice throws at us."

He sighed before shaking his head in disbelief. He stood back a bit before he ripped out the Voice sending the elderly men a few feet back. Alodie waited for his sight to clear before he noticed the elder's expression of delight yet of caution.

"Dragonborn, it is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. "Who are you?" he started, his voice echoing through the halls that probably haven't heard sound in an era.

The old man frowned in both weariness and suspicion. "I am master Arngeir, speaker for the Greybeards." He laid his hands closer to his sides, his posture all business. "And you… are Alodie, am I correct?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "How did you—?"

"A person's Thu'um is their identity—their very souls—and is easy to read." He laughed softly. "One of the reasons why we do not use it. It is hard to trust such a power." His face returned to its solemn state. "Now, tell me Dragonborn. Why have come here?"

"You called me here didn't you?" he said. "I thought that it was expected."

Arngeir raised his white eyebrows. "Expected? No. Asked? Yes, we asked you to come here. It is in our best interest that you learn how to use your gift and fulfill your destiny."

Alodie scoffed. "Destiny?" This old man relied on the gods for answers, he realized, even when the gods never had a mortal's best interests in mind. "Then what is my destiny?"

"That is for you to discover. We will try to help you along the way but you will need to find the destination." Alodie shook his head once at the elusive answer, glancing towards the other Greybeards.

"Why aren't they speaking?" he asked, pointing vaguely towards the other's direction. "Do they understand us?"

"Yes, they do. And no, they cannot speak; else they would rip this mountain apart." Alodie's mouth turned upwards slightly, started by the brutality he described, lowering his hand. Arngeir suddenly nodded to the other Greybeards. "This is Borri, Einarth, and Wulfgar," he said, each Greybeard nodding once in turn. "They will be your teachers on how to use the Voice. If you are ready to learn."

For once in his life, he was having second thoughts. He wasn't sure exactly what he would learn or if this would simply be another mistake. And who knows how long he's going to stay up on this mountain? Indeed, he did have the natural ability but he had the feeling that these monks were reserved in both voice and action. They would most likely teach him to pray rather than battle.

But… he did need to be alone. At least… for a while.

So, he nodded once.

"I'm ready."

* * *

Mjoll moved her horse down the hill side, intent on her search for Aerin. She was still started over what had occurred… and her strange feeling to turn around as if he had cast a spell on her. When she camped at night she would look up towards the moons and wonder if leaving was such a good idea. After all, she was supposed to be Alodie's shield-sister and they were never supposed to leave each other's side.

She stopped her horse once then began to laugh softly to herself.

She had finally betrayed her honor. It was as if a chain had been cut off and that she finally had room to breathe. She was, finally, free. Yet full of regret. She wondered to a question Alodie had asked her once. What was honor anyway? Nothing more than a chain to bind the obedient. And her past had been an example of this…

The wind called to her like a beast and it made her give pause. She was about to continue before she saw a figure come hurling from the south. Her eyes narrowed as she realized who that figure was.

"By the gods…" she muttered.

Marcurio came within speaking distance; the horse he rode looked beaten and worn. He glared at Mjoll sternly.

"Remember to check behind you every once in a while, for gods' sake," he said, shaking his head. "It's like you don't have any real fear of danger. At all."

"What are you doing here?" she asked dully.

Marcurio smiled brightly. "Helping you."

Mjoll narrowed her eyes. Marcurio would only "help" someone if he had been given gold along with it. She wandered if Alodie had ordered him to follow her for some reason.

She realized then that Alodie did indeed care about Aerin, even when he had no choice but to go forward, he would always come back to clean his messes. She wasn't sure what they had… what that kiss meant… but maybe they had a chance. Even if Marcurio was an annoying bastard.

"Where are we going boss?" he asked in a strangely sincere way.

Mjoll sighed. "I don't know where Aerin went but we're going to find him no matter what. So, first thing's first. We need to ask around about the Silver Hand at Whiterun. Or Riverwood. Or whatever settlement we come across. Then we'll kill the bastards who tried to do this to him."

"Sounds like a plan. Just as long as we stay _out_ of danger I'm entirely fine with that."

Mjoll narrowed her eyes. "Well… I might not want to pay you if you want to stay _out_ of danger. I mean, you _are _a mercenary aren't you?"

Marurio's face fell as he considered Mjoll's words. He sighed deeply and apathetically began going up the road into the sunrise.

"Once more into danger."

* * *

**So sorry for the delay, the only real excuse I have is writer's block unfortunately. Next chapter is the epilogue of book one of Alodie's tale. That should definitely be up much faster than this; however, the next book might take a while before I publish (or faster, who knows with my brain, really?)**

_**Hinode~Dawn**_


	22. Epilogue

**Slave to Fate**

* * *

Epilogue

The ancient stones were wet with the cold and the room smelt of old bones and of the dead. Vines crawled upon the wall like venomous snakes and rats scurried about afraid of the shadow that snuck around the crevices.

Delphine shook her cloak over her shoulder slightly bringing her bow closer to her hands. She faced the back side of the coffin—a jewel and stone inlayed tablet that was most likely empty. Above it sat a horn… a horn that she knew a certain someone would be sent to find.

She eyed it like a thief would and edged closer to it, holding paper delicately in her hand. She had sneaked by the necromancers in the front entrance who had been busy chipping away at a cave in. Fortunately, she was able to get to the main room with no problem which made her wonder about the legitimacy of this strange test.

She had found this tomb in a book she had read, saved by that old man. She couldn't believe that the old fool had been right all along. It had a map of the entire sepulchral place and contained the key needed to get through into the back door. With the help of that foolish wizard in Whiterun she was able to understand the old Nordic runes and recite the charm in front of the large stone.

Inside, everything was untouched. The Dragonborn had yet to arrive. She sighed in relief and walked up to the pedestal. She was close to touching it before she felt a shadow behind her. She flinched taking out an old katana from its sheath. At first she saw nothing; however, the shaking of the raised coffin gave her pause. The growls echoed through the hall like a wild wind poised to eat her whole. The dead were alive—not a necromancers work—but something else.

In the corner of her eye she saw a skeletal being exit its grave followed by many more in rapid succession. She yelled out, flicking a fireball at the newly arose dead before grabbing the horn whilst striking the draugr through its torso. It made no sounds as it died, however, many more remained and clawed for her throat.

Rolling over the pedestal quickly, spilling ancient pots filled with ash, she ducked the swipe of an undead before giving it a taste of her sharp blade. She had no time to adjust for the next one and had to take a blow from its club. Hearing a crack, she whimpered softly, limping quickly away after beheading the thing in a vengeance.

_Too many_, she thought hurriedly. She looked around quickly and realized that she was indeed surrounded. And the pedestal was being guarded as if they hadn't realized their prize disappeared long ago. She fingered paper in her pocket as she looked up, smirking.

Above, a primordial chandelier swung on a single chain dangerously. It only took her a couple of minutes to also realize the pool of water that stood beside the undead. She beat back a draugr as she ran back, jumping off to the bottom level of the room, confusing the dumb things. She ran across the room in a hurry, the undead following in droves. Smiling, she lifted her bow and made the shot.

It went down without a problem, the dead swordsman twitching underneath the heavy object. She shot the two remaining and the room fell silent once again. Walking up to the pedestal, she placed the note where a horn once sat, glancing at the dead, sighing, shaking her head. _At least he'll take me seriously._

* * *

Solitude was, for once, silent except for the pounding thunder and rain that seemed to dominate the gloomy city. People were scarce in the streets except for the drunks and poor who scavenged like mice for bread. It was an ugly city. An ugly city indeed.

Elenwen sat back in her seat, too dazed by the amount of reports coming in from the west and east to be bothered with rain. The Civil War conflict had been going exactly how it was supposed to, however the news of this Dragonborn had set her on edge. Already she's been ordered to find who this man is and exterminate him though she was half a province away from even trying to. At this very moment, spies are watching all the major towns of Skyrim in search of any suspicious persons. And the search has been a long one, no doubt.

Her sharp eyes almost seemed to sigh as they looked up to meet a spy who had come from Whiterun. She sat up, rolling a scroll up, and placing it in the desk.

"This better be good," she muttered.

The spy smiled roughly before nodding towards the open door. Two guards shoved through the door roughly and held between them an unconscious beggar. All Elenwen knew was that the Breton stank of the sewers and should be kicked out.

She narrowed her eyes.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "If this doesn't have a point then I want this man disposed of immediately."

"Oh, believe me ambassador. This has a point."

Normally she would kill any impudent person who said that to her, however, this person happened to be Rulindil who possessed enough information to surpass her in office. And she hated him for that. The Breton coughed once through his gags and struggled to look up but failed. The guards tightened their grips. "I believe he has a lot of interesting things to say… if he would say them."

The Breton made a face as if to say "no way in Oblivion." She frowned deeply.

"And? What information do you think he has?"

Rulindil gave his infamous smile that she loathed. He took out a small parchment that looked as if it had been part of a book. He slid the paper forcefully onto Elenwen's marble desk and awaited her response. _Esbern_, it began, _Archivist_. _Warrens_. Then below it were three words. _Imperial_. Alodie.

She narrowed her eyes. "How did you find this information? And who is this?" she asked.

"The Dragonborn of course." She was rather surprised Rulindil was able to discover his identity although the "Warrens" made no sense. "It has come to my knowledge that Esbern is somewhere in the Rift, but whether he has moved already is unknown. So, we are going to 'question' our little friend here." With his final words he looked over towards the Breton. "I found him in Whiterun, apparently a runner for the Thieves Guild. He told me all about an Imperial who went by the name of Alodie so I did some research." He smirked. "And by research, I mean getting most of the idiotic guards drunk till they couldn't recognize a girl for a hound. And they spilled everything that I needed to know." He gave Elenwen a triumphant look. "So, I returned to the thief and brought him here for… questioning."

Elenwen was, for once, astonished. Barely anyone in Skyrim knew the identity of this Dragonborn yet an _underling_ to her was able to figure it out. However, she wasn't worried about the Dragonborn. At least... not yet.

"I don't care about the Dragonborn right now. What we need is the information that Esbern has." She sat back in her chair and motioned with her head. "Well—"

"I'm not done yet." Rulindil nodded to the guards who escorted the prisoner out in order to gain privacy. Once the door closed he sat. "As you know, the Emperor's cousin, Vittoria, is having her wedding in Sun's Dusk."

Elenwen rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am well aware of that, Emissary. What exactly do you take me for?"

He squared his shoulders, smiling. "An ambassador of course."

Elenwen gave the spy a demeaning glare before bending over her desk.

"Get to the point," she demanded harshly.

"I am," he coughed once. "As you well know, we are going to also have a... guest if all goes according to plan. A guest that needs to know their 'mark' if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't. At all."

Rulindil laughed at her causing her hairs to spike on her head.

"We need immunity. An alibi. So, why don't we have a… diplomatic party?"

* * *

He had watched all above the old mountain, staring deeply above the heart of Skyrim.

To him, time was still—the sun and moons simpe decoration as he meditated on his very own nature. As the leader of the Greybeards, he took this everyday easy life at a slow pace. However, he knew that it wouldn't last forever.

"_Dovahkiin_," he muttered to the wind. He glanced over his shoulder, down below his perch on the very top of the mountain. There sat the ripple in time and the place where it all began. He tried not to think to hard on the past since most of the time his thoughts were spent on that very moment. The mistake.

He remembered others like the Dragonborn, though he never met but one. He had met fickle gods who wished for him to offer his power, kings who wished for his help to conquer kingdoms, and prayers that were never answered yet only one of his kind since the ripple in time. To become a Greybeard was to become one with history, never influencing the events as if he himself was traveling through time.

He worried for the future of this world. And it was abnormal. As a monk, he was supposed to remain ever vigilant in remaining at peace with the Thu'um.

However, now, Akatosh has granted another being solace. Was it a sign of things to come?

"**Paarthurnax**," called a familiar Thu'um as he closed his eyes. "**Paar. Thur. Nax. Do not deny what you are, Zeymah. You can never resist it. The power of Fate has been decided. Change, eminent."**

"_I will not be bound to your whims as you bound the humans below us. And once released of you, the dov will truly find freedom.**"**_

The Thu'um laughed as he responded.

"**The world needs a rebirth before we could ever be free. Don't fool yourself."**

The familiar Thu'um then left him, and he waited. Then he came. The next Dragonborn. He was a familiar sort—his soul close to Ysmir and Talos of Atmora. Even though he truly didn't know of it.

And the mortal sat there now below in the ancient halls of High Hrothgar. In the wind, he heard a question.

"_Do you wish to meet him?"_

He whispered a response, shaking his head.

"_Not yet."_

Silence again, then an understood nod.

_Not yet…but soon…_

**End of Part III - The Way of the Voice**

* * *

**Paar. Thur. Nax** – Ambition. Overlord. Cruelty.

**I want to thank everyone who has favorite, subscribed, reviewed or even simply read this entire thing. Especially my returning reviewers who have given me support along the way :) **

**Well, Slave to Fate is over and the next book, One of Destiny, continues the journey. I really hope you have enjoyed the story so far and believe me—I have plans for more. I can sort of imagine this being in sort of a trilogy while Slave to Fate is book one, One of Destiny is book two and so on... So, keep an eye out if you've been reading this. I'll post a preview of the next book here later to keep you preoccupied while I take a small break sorting out the next part of this epic. :)**

**As you can guess, our heroes are separated throughout Skyrim and the Civil War is just getting started! More battles and adventure to come so stay tuned! (Why do I have to be so lame?)**

**Until next time!**

_**Hinode~Dawn**_


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